The Golden Myth
The kettle screamed. It was a high, thin sound, like a woman tearing her throat out, and it cut through the heavy silence of the kitchen. Elias stood by the sink, his back to the door. His hands were still. They were always still. He poured the water into the pot. The steam rose in white, twisting columns. "You are late," a voice said from the shadows. Elias did not turn. He knew the voice. It...
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