The Golden Downtown
The river, swollen with the sudden thaw of early spring, did not ask permission before it rose. It simply climbed the muddy banks of the valley with a slow, indifferent inevitability, swallowing the lower fields and leaving behind a slick, black mirror that reflected the grey, bruised sky. Thomas Ashworth stood at the edge of his workshop, a place that had been a shop, then a home, and now was...
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