The Golden Cellar
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, grey sheet that turned the gravel path into a slurry of brown mud, and it was in this damp, suffocating quiet that Elias stood by the open trunk of his car, his hands trembling not from the cold but from the sudden, crushing realization that he was holding the only living thing in the world that still knew his name, a small, grey-feathered...
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