The Golden Mirror
The ledger is not where I left it, Elias, and I cannot find it, Julian said, his voice thin as the paper he held, and I knew then that the three-day countdown had already begun to bleed into the present, making every second a small, sharp wound in the fabric of the day. I sat in the chair by the window, the one with the broken spring that squeaked when I shifted my weight, and I watched the...
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