The Golden Echoes
The departure was not marked by tears but by the precise, rhythmic clicking of heels on the polished oak floorboards, a sound that echoed in the hollow chest of the house as Margaret Holloway packed her final suitcase with a detachment that bordered on the clinical, her fingers brushing against the cold, unyielding surface of the heavy iron box that sat on the top shelf, a box that had survived...
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