The Golden Visit
The rain slicked the cobblestones. You left the house. The door clicked shut. You did not look back. Your wife stood on the porch. She held a lantern. The flame trembled in the wind. She did not call out. She only watched you go. You walked toward the University. The air was cold. It bit at your cheeks. You were a scholar of ancient texts. You had spent thirty years in the archives. You knew...
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