The Golden Visit
You stand at the edge of the waking world, where the carpet fibers of your office chair fray into a mist that smells of ozone and old wool, and you realize with a hollow, sickening thud in your chest that the golden pin is gone. It is not merely missing from the lapel of your father’s suit, that heavy, starched thing that has hung in the wardrobe like a silent accusation for three years; it is...
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