The Golden Harbor
The rain on the iron roof of the station sounded like the scratching of dry bones, a relentless, industrial rhythm that had become the heartbeat of Silas’s waking life. He stood by the window, watching the fog roll off the harbor, thick and yellow, swallowing the masts of the steamships until they were only dark ghosts drifting in the grey void. It was the night he was to leave, the night the...
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