The Golden Suspect
You walk. The road is red. It is wet. It is deep. Your boots sink. You pull. You sink again. You do not stop. You cannot stop. The mist clings. It tastes of iron. It tastes of old rain. You are a sinner. You know this. You wear it. It is a coat. It fits too well. You are walking away. Or toward. It does not matter. The path is the same. Beside you walks Elias. He is old. His spine is bent. He...
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