The Golden Myth
The air in the sub-basement of the St. Jude’s Orphanage Archive was thick with the scent of decaying cellulose and the metallic tang of old iron, a heavy, suffocating blanket that pressed against your lungs with the weight of centuries. You were not here by choice, nor were you here by right, but by the cold, unyielding decree of the Board of Directors, who had determined that the preservation...
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