The Distant Joke
The glass walls of the conference room on the forty-second floor reflected Elena’s face back at her, a pale, distorted ghost trapped behind the shimmering surface. She sat rigidly in the leather chair, her hands folded in her lap, watching Marcus adjust his cufflinks with a casual precision that felt like a threat. The air in the room was heavy, thick with the cloying scent of lavender oil that...
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