The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-21 23:47:27 -

The clock tower struck. I was late. My hands trembled. The glass shattered. Not the wine glass. The clock face. A jagged shard of crystal embedded itself in my palm. Blood welled up. Dark. Warm. I did not flinch. I am a man of routine. I am a clerk. I work in the Ministry of Temporal Integrity. We manage time. We file it. We stamp it. We ensure the hours do not bleed into one another. It is a...

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