The Golden Mirror
The smell hit Clara Vane before the door did. It was not the sharp, chemical bite of the industrial solvents used in the Halloway & Sons accounting firm, but something older, wetter, and far more intimate. It was the scent of meat left too long in a warm room, a rot that seemed to seep up from the floorboards of the rented attic where she had been sleeping for three weeks. Clara, thirty years...
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