The Golden Myth
The bell tower of St. Jude’s collapsed on a Tuesday, in the middle of a shift I had hoped would be quiet. It did not fall with the dramatic roar of a bomb, but with a long, groaning tear, like a ship’s hull giving way to the tide. The sound was a low, resonant thrum that I felt in my teeth before I heard it with my ears. Dust poured from the shattered masonry, coating the cobblestones in a...
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