The Golden Compass

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2026-08-19 04:34:54 -

The bus left at dawn. I stood at the curb with my bag, watching the tail lights fade into the grey mist. My father was not there. He had stopped coming to the curb three months ago. He said the institution required us to separate. It was for my own good, he said, though his voice was thin and brittle, like dry leaves. I nodded. I did not argue. I had learned that arguing only made the walls...

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