The Faded Root
The banquet hall of the municipal arboretum was a cacophony of clinking silverware and the low, hum of air conditioning systems that struggled against the oppressive weight of the midsummer heat, a sterile, white-walled labyrinth where the air smelled faintly of ozone and the waxy, artificial scent of the thousand potted ficuses that lined the corridors like silent, plastic sentinels, and it...
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