The Golden Suspect
The train to the coast did not so much arrive as it exhaled, a long, shuddering release of steam that fogged the glass and blurred the world outside into a grey, watercolor smear of pine and slate. I stepped onto the platform at Dunmore, my breath misting in the frigid air, and looked up at the Institute of Natural Phenomena, a sprawling, gothic structure of dark stone that seemed less like a...
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