The Golden Echoes
The leather of your gloves creaks against the oak surface of the interrogation table, a dry, rasping sound that seems too loud in the sterile, windowless room. You are sitting across from a young man whose name is Thomas, and he is looking at you with an expression that is not fear, but a kind of hollowed-out curiosity, as if he is trying to find the crack in the wall through which you have...
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