The Faded Ruin
The banquet was a lie of light and laughter, a sterile celebration of the Bureau’s centennial anniversary held in the main atrium where the air was scrubbed of scent and memory. I stood at the periphery, my hands clasped behind my back, watching the Director raise a glass of synthetic wine to the sanitized future while the low-frequency hum in my veins pulsed in counter-rhythm to the polite...
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