The Golden Harbor
The banquet hall smelled of roasted garlic and old blood, a thick, cloying perfume that clung to the velvet curtains and settled in the hollows of my throat. I sat at the far end of the long oak table, my hands folded tightly in my lap, feeling the sweat dampen the cuffs of my white shirt. Around me, the other employees of the Meridian Sanitation Authority raised their crystal goblets, their...
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