The Golden Quest
You hold the badge in your palm, and it is heavy, heavier than it has any right to be, a cold iron anchor in the flood of your exhaustion. It is a path boundary, a line drawn in metal that separates you from the rest of the city, a perimeter that you have walked so many times that the asphalt has worn grooves into the soles of your boots. The rain in this part of the city does not wash things...
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