The Golden Ritual
The tea was lukewarm. Eleanor held the cup. The ceramic was chipped. The chip ran along the handle. It was a small flaw. It was the only flaw. She sipped. The taste was stale. It tasted of dust. It tasted of time. The office was quiet. The air conditioning hummed. It was a low sound. It was a constant sound. It was the sound of the machine. The machine did not sleep. The machine did not dream....
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