The Golden Myth

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 17:12:46 -

The Golden Myth

The bus smelled of wet wool and diesel. I kept my hands in my pockets. The fabric of my jacket was thin. It did not matter. I was used to cold. I was a soldier. I had seen winters in the mountains. This was just a city winter. Gray. Slippery. The rain hit the window in sheets. I was going to see Elias. He was my superior. He was also a monster. We had worked together for three years. We broke...

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