The Golden Visit
The fog rolled in off the reservoir, thick and white as wool. It swallowed the pines. It swallowed the road. It swallowed the truth. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the drop-off. His boots crunched on the gravel. The silence was loud. It pressed against his eardrums. He waited. The wind held its breath. He was a soldier no longer. He was a warden. The badge on his chest felt heavy. It felt...
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