The Golden Echoes
The air in the house had grown thick, viscous, like amber preserving an insect in eternal, suspended agony. I sat in the study, the room that had once been a sanctuary of quiet industry, now a mausoleum for a life that I could no longer decipher. My hands, resting on the mahogany desk, trembled with a micro-vibration that I had long ceased to identify as fear. It was simply the frequency of...
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