The Golden Maze
The air in the basement of the community center in Oakhaven tasted of damp plaster and stale coffee, a metallic tang that coated the back of Elias Thorne’s throat as he stood before the long folding table, his hands trembling so violently that the spoon slipped twice from his grasp before he managed to secure it. He was a man of sixty years, his spine curved like a question mark that had...
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