The Golden Visit
The locket is tarnished, a dull smear of yellow metal against the crisp white paper of the claim form. You pick it up, the weight of it shocking in its familiarity. Your thumb traces the engraving on the back, a single, worn initial that you have not seen in twenty years. It is yours. You set it down, your hand trembling, and look at the file. The deceased is Julian Thorne. Your brother. You...
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