The Golden Harbor
The bell tolled. It was a low, bronze sound. It hung in the air. It did not fade. It stayed. It was heavy. It was cold. Thomas stood by the window. His hands were white. He held a cup. The tea was cold. He did not drink. He watched the fog. The fog rolled in. It swallowed the street. It swallowed the lamps. It swallowed the world. Inside, the house breathed. The walls were old. They were...
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