The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 09:13:12 -

The Distant Joke

The tea in the chipped porcelain cup had gone cold, its surface a dark, still mirror that reflected the dust motes dancing in the shafts of afternoon light slicing through the tall, arched windows of the Ministry of Internal Security, a place where the air always smelled faintly of old paper, wet wool, and the metallic tang of fear that permeated the very bricks of the Victorian edifice. I sat...

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