The Distant Garden
The champagne was warm in my mouth, tasting of sugar and stale air, as I stood at the edge of the Ministry’s annual gala, watching the chandeliers flicker in a rhythm that seemed to mock the order of the room. I am Elias Thorne, a junior clerk in the Ministry of Aesthetics, and I have spent three years polishing other people’s legacy while my own career rotted in the basement of administrative...
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