The Golden Maze
The bus drops you at the edge of the district, a place where the asphalt gives way to a manicured expanse of gravel and glass, and you stand there with your heavy duffel bag, the one that holds the armor of your profession, feeling the weight of it not just on your shoulders but in the marrow of your bones. It is a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday, the days have blurred into a continuous gray...
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