The Golden Maze
The train hissed into the station at Dunmore, a long, dying exhalation of steam that filled the platform with the smell of wet coal and iron. You stood there, your hands tucked into the pockets of your greatcoat, watching the doors close. It was a small town, Dunmore, huddled against the gray spine of the hills, its streets paved with cobblestones that gleamed black in the perpetual drizzle....
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