The Wistful Incense
The incense burner sat on the mahogany desk of the Ministry of Historical Preservation, a small, bronze vessel worn smooth by the fingers of generations who had never once lit it. It was an object of profound, quiet dignity, its surface pitted by time and tarnished by the specific, heavy air of the archive room where we worked. I was the only one who knew it was not merely a decorative relic...
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