The Golden Myth
The smell of wet plaster and old dust hit me before I even saw him, a thick, cloying scent that clung to the back of my throat as I turned from the filing cabinets. "Clara, get in here. Now." Director Halloway did not raise his voice, but the sharpness of it cut through the hum of the ventilation system, a sound like a wire snapping under tension. I walked into his office, the air cooler here,...
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