The Golden Echoes
"Did you see the way he looked at you, Clara? Just stood there in the rain, coat flapping like a broken wing, eyes wide as saucers. I thought he was going to fall over." Clara wiped her hands on her apron, the fabric already stained with the greasy residue of the day’s work. She did not look up from the counter where she was polishing the brass scales, a ritual she performed with the same...
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