The Golden Crossing
The rain hit the glass like gravel. Mara sat at the kitchen table. The water was black. It smelled of iron. Her hands were wet. They were always wet. She looked at the ledger. The numbers moved. They swam. One line. Two lines. Three. Debt. Her brother, Elias, was in the cell. The walls were thin. She could hear his breathing. It was a rattle. A dry, brittle sound. Like dry leaves in a gutter....
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