The Golden Harbor
The floorboards groan. You feel it in your teeth. A high, thin vibration that travels up the jaw and settles in the bone. It is a sound you know well. You have known it for forty years. You are standing in the library. The air is still. Dust motes drift in the pale beam of the window. They hang suspended like frozen insects. You reach for the book. It is heavy. The spine cracks. You pull it...
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