The Golden Harbor
The shattering of the porcelain cup was not a sound, but a sudden, violent silence that replaced the hum of the air conditioning in the breakroom. I stood frozen, my fingers still curled around the handle of the shattered piece, the ceramic shards biting into my skin, drawing thin lines of red that I did not feel until later. Around me, the open-plan office of Harrow & Grist Logistics had...
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