The Golden Harbor
The fog did not lift so much as it thickened, a white, suffocating blanket that swallowed the iron girders of the textile mill and the skeletal remains of the town until only the rhythmic, wet coughing of my lungs remained in the silence, a sound that had become the only clock I trusted in the last three years of my confinement within these walls, where the air tasted of rust and rotting cotton...
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