The Golden Myth
The fog that settled over the harbor town of Oakhaven in the late autumn of 1924 was not merely a meteorological event but a physical weight, a damp wool blanket pressed against the windows of the old customs house where I had served as a clerk for three unremarkable years. I sat in my assigned cubicle, a small box of whitewashed wood and iron that smelled of damp paper and the lingering,...
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