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... ensation of falling was gone, replaced by the familiar texture of a chair's cushion pressing against his back. His fingers twitched, brushing against the polished wooden armrest, and his mind struggled to bridge the impossible gap between the dreamlike descent and his sudden, abrupt return to reality.
The office was unchanged. Neat, composed, the scent of paper and faint perfume lingering in the air.
And so was she.
The woman sitting across from him—no longer Morgana, no ...
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