The Golden Mirror
The alarm on your desk does not ring. It buzzes, a low, insectile vibration that you feel in your teeth before you hear it, shaking the ceramic mug of cold coffee until it spills a dark, viscous ring onto the manila folders. You are not asleep. You are never asleep in this chair, not truly, only suspended in the grey limbo of the night shift at the Department of Internal Affairs. The...
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