The Distant Nightmare
The conference room smelled of stale coffee and the sharp, chemical bite of the new air purifier, a scent that seemed to settle into the pores of the beige wallpaper, a texture Elias Thorne had known for twenty years as the background noise of his own competence. Marcus, his supervisor, leaned back in his ergonomic chair, the leather creaking under his weight, and tapped a manicured finger...
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