The Wistful Incense
The coffee was burnt. It tasted of rubber and old pennies. Elias stirred it. The spoon scraped the ceramic. A sound like a small bone breaking. He looked at the clock. 4:15 AM. The lab was dark. Only the monitor glowed. Blue light. Cold. He was a tenured professor. Or so the plaque said. The plaque was brass. It said Dr. Elias Thorne, Head of Applied Ethics. The irony was thick. It clogged his...
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