The Golden Myth
The brass button sits in the center of the wooden table, its polished surface reflecting the candlelight in a steady, unblinking gaze. You remember the day you found it, tucked into the lining of your father’s greatcoat, a small, cold thing that seemed to hold the weight of the entire war. It was not gold, not truly, but a heavy, tarnished alloy that caught the light with a deceptive, royal...
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