The Golden Downtown
The first tremor of the fire began not with a roar, but with a scent, a cloying, metallic sweetness that seeped through the floorboards of the Sterling Institute, carrying with it the ghost of a thousand extinguished candles. Margaret Holloway stood at the center of the atrium, her fingers splayed wide against the cool marble of the central pillar, feeling the vibration of the building’s...
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