The Golden Mirror
The first thing you count is the hours, twelve of them, stacked in the cold air of your office like unpaid debts, each one heavier than the last, pressing against the ribs of the room until the plaster cracks and the damp seeps through. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a man who has spent the last three years polishing the memory of his sister Clara until it is thin as paper, and now you hold...
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