The Wistful Atlas
The chandeliers in the Grand Ballroom of the Department of Public Safety were crystal and heavy, catching the light of a hundred candles and fracturing it into a thousand sharp, dancing shards that blinded me before I could blink. I stood near the service entrance, holding a glass of champagne I did not intend to drink, while General Halloway took the podium to receive the Key to the City, his...
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