The Golden Cellar
The glass chalice sits on the mahogany desk. It is a small thing, no larger than your fist, yet it holds the weight of the entire firm. You know this because you have polished it for twelve years. The office is silent, save for the hum of the server racks in the basement and the distant, muffled traffic of the city outside. You are Eleanor. You are the Vice President of Operations. You are the...
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