The Golden Crossing

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2026-08-19 11:07:46 -

The gold brooch in your pocket feels heavier than it should. It is a small, intricate thing, a stylized hawk in flight, its feathers rendered in filigree so fine they seem to vibrate against your thigh with every step you take down the corridor of the Department of Internal Affairs. You have worn it for three days. It was your mother’s, pinned to her blouse the day before the fever took her, a...

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