The Golden Crossing

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2026-08-18 11:08:14 -

The clock on my wrist had stopped. It was a good watch. Gold casing. White face. I had wound it that morning, three times, with the care of a man handling a live bird. It ticked with a steady, cold rhythm against my pulse. Then, as I stepped through the heavy oak doors of the Ministry of Continuity, the ticking ceased. I looked down. The hands were frozen at ten past ten. The second hand hung...

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