The Distant Joke
The glass necklace hung around Elias Thorne’s neck like a noose made of starlight, cold and brittle against his sweat-dampened skin. It was a relic from a life he had left in Prague, a shard of blue that had once been part of a larger, perfect whole. He wore it under his shirt, a secret talisman, a fracture he kept hidden from the sterile, humming eyes of the compliance algorithms that watched...
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