The Golden Downtown
The heavy silver tongs slipped, and the stem of the golden apple snapped with a wet, fibrous sound that cut through the low hum of the violins, sending a slurry of dark, oxidized flesh onto the white linen tablecloth. You stood in the center of the Grand Meridian Institute’s banquet hall, your hands still gripping the tongs, while the eyes of forty senior archivists and donors turned toward...
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