The Distant Garden
The emerald ring sat in the glass case, its green light dull and scratched, a mirror of my own eroded dignity, and I knew that if I did not take it back now, I would never be whole again. My name is Elias Thorne, and for twenty years I have served the Ministry of Internal Order, a job that required me to be a ghost in the machine, a variable that managed other variables, but the machine had...
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