The Golden Suspect
The tower had stood for a hundred years, a silent monolith of gray stone rising from the center of the old city, its spire piercing the low, bruised clouds that hung over the harbor. To the people of the town, it was the anchor of their world, the fixed point around which the tides of history and personal tragedy turned. It did not change. It did not rot. It simply was, indifferent to the hands...
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