The Golden Echoes
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray weeping that turned the grounds of St. Jude’s Orphanage into a slurry of mud and decayed leaves. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of boiled cabbage and damp wool, a suffocating mixture that seemed to settle into the bones of those who slept within its walls. Seven-year-old Julian sat at the edge of his narrow cot, his fingers...
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