The Distant Crown
The crown was rusted, and it sat on a bed of wet gravel in the dream, heavy with the weight of things that had been forgotten. I woke to the smell of stale coffee and the low, persistent hum of the server room, the kind of noise that gets into your teeth if you stay in the building too long. It was 4:00 AM, and my phone was buzzing against the nightstand, the screen bright with a message from...
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