The Distant Garden
The banquet hall of the Ministry of Internal Cohesion smelled of roasted pheasant and the sharp, metallic tang of ozone that permeated every corridor of the government complex, a scent that had become so inextricably linked to your existence that you could no longer distinguish the smell of fear from the smell of the roasted bird, and as you stood by the crystal vase holding a single, decaying...
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