The Golden Song
The radio crackled with static that sounded like the sea, though you were three miles inland, where the pine needles formed a carpet so thick it muffled the crunch of your boots. You stopped. You listened. The silence that followed was not empty; it was heavy, pressurized, holding its breath. You had been walking for six days, your legs aching with a dull, rhythmic throb that matched the beat...
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