The Golden Master
The rain had been falling for three days. It was a cold, grey drizzle that seeped into the joints and settled in the bones. I kept the window of my study open, just a crack, to let the dampness in. I liked the smell of wet stone. It reminded me of things that were old and things that were ending. On my desk sat the clock. It was a small thing, brass and glass, no larger than a man’s fist. I had...
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