The Golden Visit
The rain hit the glass like gravel. Marcus stood in the center of the atrium. He did not move. He counted the drops. One. Two. Three. The lobby was empty. The gold leaf on the ceiling was peeling. It looked like scales. "You’re late," said a voice from the shadows. Marcus turned. A man sat in a velvet armchair. The man wore a suit that cost more than Marcus’s house. The man smiled. It was a...
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