The Golden Visit
"You have failed," the Warden said. His voice was dry. Like dead leaves. I stood in the cell. The stone was cold. It bit into my skin. I did not answer. The Warden looked at me. His eyes were flat. He held a ledger. The ink was black. It shone wetly. "Another year," he said. He turned his back. He walked away. The door closed. The lock clicked. A sound of finality. I sat on the floor. My legs...
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