The Golden Downtown
The first thing Margaret noticed was the smell, a sharp, metallic tang that clung to the back of her throat like the memory of a coin held too long in a clenched fist. She stood on the edge of the plaza, where the cobblestones gave way to a carpet of moss so green it seemed to hum with its own internal light, and watched the figure across the square. It was not a person, not exactly, but a...
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