The Golden Quest
The office smelled of stale coffee and floor wax, a scent that had seeped into the fibers of Elias Thorne’s suit over the last four years. He sat in the corner of the open-plan workspace, his hands wrapped around a small, cracked porcelain bird that sat on his desk. The ceramic was cold, its glaze chipped near the beak, and he turned it over and over, feeling the roughness of the fracture...
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