The Distant Temple
The porcelain cup did not shatter with a sound so much as it disintegrated, a sudden, violent eruption of white shards that scattered across the dark mahogany table like the teeth of a leviathan, each fragment catching the harsh, fluorescent glare of the windowless conference room at the Meridian Insurance Exchange. Elias Thorne, forty-two years old and trembling with the specific, metallic...
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