The Golden Echoes
I woke with the taste of copper and burnt sugar on my tongue, a sensation so distinct it felt less like a memory of food and more like a physical residue, a stain that no amount of brushing would scrub away. The air in the room was thick, humid, carrying the weight of a storm that had passed hours ago, leaving behind a silence that was not empty but full, pressing against the eardrums like deep...
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