The Golden Downtown
The jar sat on the highest shelf of the cupboard, a squat, glass cylinder filled with a liquid so thick and opaque it looked less like soup and more like the distilled essence of a sunset, a golden sludge that caught the dim afternoon light filtering through the dusty windowpane. It was the only thing in the entire room of the St. Jude’s Orphanage that possessed a shine, a quiet, persistent...
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