The Wistful Dinner
The air in the Great Hall of the Sterling Institute for Advanced Cognitive Sciences was not merely cold, but sterile, a vacuum-sealed absence of warmth that seemed to press against the eardrums with the weight of old, preserved memories. I sat at the head of the long mahogany table, the wood polished to a mirror-like sheen that reflected my own face back at me, distorted and slightly hollowed...
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