The Golden Harbor
The lighthouse stood alone. The sea was black. The glass was full. Elias wiped the lens. His hands shook. He was a man of light. He knew the angles. He knew the distances. He had kept the flame for thirty years. No one else could. He loved the beam. It was his child. It was his god. He fed it oil. He polished it daily. He never let it dim. The light cut through the fog. It cut through the dark....
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