The Golden Harbor
The train hissed into the station of St. Jude’s, a long, mournful exhalation that seemed to strip the fog from the iron tracks, leaving only the wet, shivering silence of a city that had forgotten how to sleep. You step out onto the platform, your suitcase feeling impossibly heavy, not with weight but with the accumulated dust of a life lived in libraries and lecture halls, a life where the...
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