The Golden Downtown

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2026-08-17 17:44:47 -

The train was late, which was the first sign that the machinery of the state had begun to grind against the reality of the earth, and I stood on the platform at Whitmore Junction with my duffel bag heavy on one shoulder and the taste of cold iron in my mouth, watching the fog roll off the river like a shroud that had been torn open to reveal the damp, grey bones of the town. I had been ordered...

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