The Golden Ritual
The clock on the wall ticked with the heavy, wet rhythm of a metronome out of tune. Fourteen hours left until the deadline. Fourteen hours until the contract was signed, or until the contract was not. You counted the seconds in groups of ten, the way your mother used to count stitches in her knitting, each number a small, hard bead on a string that was slowly fraying. The fluorescent light...
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