The room I am in glistens.

I sit in a leather chair, in front of me a precisely chiseled desk of obsidian-colored marble, behind it another leather chair, this one resembling a sort of throne: its northernmost corners tower over the rest of it, folded over and just marginally angled toward me so as to fade into themselves, eluding exactitude as my gaze circulates while its vertices remain in place.

And in this chair, a man.
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