The Golden Master
You are the last man to know the weight of the stone. It sits in the center of the room. It is a block of granite, grey as a winter sky, rough and unyielding. It is not a tombstone. It is a foundation. You have carved it. You have spent the better part of your life carving it. The chisel is in your hand. The hammer is heavy. Your knuckles are split. Blood seeps into the grain of the wood. You...
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