The Golden Visit
The door was thick. Oak. It smelled of tallow and old iron. You stood before it. The handle was cold. You were Thomas. You were a clerk. You had a coat that fit too well. It was a good coat. It was a lie. You knocked. Once. Twice. Three times. The sound was hollow. It died in the air. No one came. The hall was dark. A single lamp burned above the door. It flickered. The light was yellow. It was...
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