The Pale Tale
You hold the glass. It is heavy. The liquid inside is clear, cold, and trembling. You do not drink. You look at the reflection of your face in the curve. It is not your face. It is older. It is tired. You are in the office. The room is high-ceilinged. The walls are painted a dull, institutional beige. There is a desk. The desk is mahogany. It is polished to a mirror shine. Behind the desk sits...
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