The Golden Crossing
The fire started in the basement. It was a small thing at first. A spark from the boiler. A smell of hot oil. Then the smell of burning wood. Eleanor Vance stood on the fourth floor of the university library. She looked down through the high windows. The smoke was thick. It was black. It rolled across the plaza. She did not run. She went to her office. She closed the door. She sat in her chair....
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