The Golden Song

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2026-08-21 23:06:43 -

The Golden Song

The committee meets in a room that smells of stale coffee and damp wool, the kind of air that clings to the lungs and refuses to leave. You are sitting at the end of the long oak table, your hands folded flat on the surface, your fingers pale and still. Across from you, Director Halloway slides a manila folder across the grain. He does not look at you. He looks at the folder, as if it contains...

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