The Golden Circuit
The house breathes. You hear it. The floorboards creak. The beams groan. It is alive. You stand in the center of the hall. The dust motes dance. They are golden. They are thick. The air smells of decay. It smells of gold. You hold the circuit. It is a golden circuit. It is heavy. It is warm. It is a relic. You are a merchant. You deal in things. You deal in life. You are poor. You are hungry....
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