The Golden Scar
"Margaret. Margaret, you’re going to spill the wine on the carpet." The voice belonged to Director Halloway, and it cut through the roar of the gala like a scalpel through fat. I was standing near the buffet table, my hand hovering over a glass of red that I had not yet touched, my eyes straining against the dim, amber light of the Ministry’s main hall. The air smelled of roasted lamb and stale...
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