The Golden Song

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2026-08-19 14:54:48 -

The Golden Song

The coat was the only thing I owned that did not smell of damp wood and stale ash. It was a heavy, charcoal wool thing, with buttons the color of tarnished silver, and it had a lining that felt like silk against my skin. For years, I had told myself it was just a coat. A good coat, perhaps, but a coat nonetheless. I was a tinkerer, a man who fixed what others could not be bothered to repair,...

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