The Golden Visit
The building stood in the grey mist of the industrial park, a monolith of concrete and glass that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. Elias Thorne had been sleeping for three days, or so it felt, dreaming of gold. It was a heavy, suffocating gold, not the bright, clean gold of coins or jewelry, but the dull, tarnished yellow of old pipes and stagnant water. In the dream, he was...
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