The Golden Cellar
The collapse of the eastern wing of the estate was not a sudden violence but a slow, agonizing surrender, a sigh of ancient timber and crumbling masonry that seemed to emanate from the very bedrock of the earth, a sound that I felt in my teeth more than I heard with my ears as the dust rose in thick, choking clouds that swallowed the afternoon light and turned the world into a sepia-toned ghost...
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