The Wistful Dinner
The frost has settled on the windowpane of your small office, a delicate lattice of ice that mirrors the rigid, unyielding structure of the tax code you have memorized. You are sitting alone. The clock on the wall ticks with a mechanical indifference that feels personally offensive, each second a small, cold weight dropping into the silence of your room. Outside, the town of Oakhaven sleeps...
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