The Gilded Forward
Julian Ashworth died at seventy-eight and woke at twenty-nine. The transition was not dramatic. There was no tunnel of light, no chorus of voices, no lifetime flashing before his eyes. There was only the sensation of falling— slow, inevitable, like a stone sinking through still water— and then the hard, bright surface of October 1927 breaking against his face. He was at his desk on Wall...
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