The Golden Echoes
The silk tie hung from the doorknob of the office door like a severed limb, its deep crimson color dulling in the harsh fluorescent light. It was a custom weave, expensive and heavy, a thing that had once signaled status and precision. Now, it was just fabric, limp and waiting. Arthur Pendelton stood before it, his hand hovering in the air, the leather of his gloves creaking softly. He was a...
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