The Golden Myth
The truck idled on the gravel shoulder, its engine coughing a rhythmic, metallic dryness that seemed to match the hollow space in Elias’s chest. He sat in the driver’s seat, hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, staring out at the endless wash of gray birch trees that lined the highway into the valley. The air outside was thin and cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying...
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