The Golden Farce
The train groaned into the station at dusk, a low, metallic moan that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones, and I stepped onto the platform with the heavy, aching certainty that I was carrying the weight of the world in a small, leather-bound box against my chest. The air in the city of Veldt was thick with the smell of wet cobblestones and ozone, a sharp, metallic tang that clung to the...
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