The Golden Scar
The clock on the mantel ticks. You hear it. You count the seconds. One. Two. Three. The hands move forward. They never stop. You stand in your shop. The glass is clean. The dust is gone. You polish the brass. You do it every day. You do it until your hands ache. You do it until the metal shines like a mirror. You see your face. It is old. It is tired. You are Elias. You are a watchmaker. You...
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