The Pale Banner
The soup was cold. It sat in the bowl, a gray, congealed mass that mirrored the sky outside the window. Elias stirred it with a spoon. The metal scraped against ceramic. A sound like a bone breaking. "It’s thick today," said Mara. She did not look up from her ledger. Her pen moved in small, precise arcs. "The viscosity is up. Did you add the starch?" Elias nodded. "Yes." "Too much." "Standard...
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