The Golden Compass
The rain hits the cobblestones like a thousand small hammers. You stand on the wet pavement, holding the umbrella over your head. The handle is cold. It bites into your palm. You feel the shiver in your bones. "Is it true?" Your father stands beside you. He does not look at you. He looks at the shop window across the street. The glass reflects his face. It is a face you know, but it is also a...
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