The Golden Mirror
The rain had not stopped for three days, and the grey water of the harbor lapped against the rotting wooden pilings with a rhythmic, mournful cadence that seemed to sync with the beating of my own heart, a heavy, wet drumbeat that echoed in the hollows of my chest and the damp walls of the small office I shared with the city’s forgotten dead, a place where the air smelled of mildew, old paper,...
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