The Golden Cellar
The rain did not fall so much as it was pressed against the glass of the fourth-floor window, a grey, relentless palm pushing against the darkness. Mara stood in the center of the studio apartment, the concrete floor cold through the soles of her worn boots, and felt the weight of the bottle in her hand. It was a heavy bottle, thick glass, filled with a liquid that shimmered with a viscous,...
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