The Golden Oath

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2026-08-22 18:14:39 -

The Golden Oath

The bus driver called out my name, "Margaret," sharp and flat, cutting through the diesel fumes. He did not look at me. He just checked the mirror and started the engine, the vibration rattling the loose window latch. I held my bag tighter against my chest. Inside were three letters, a tin of heather tea, and the pension claim form that had been stamped "Under Review" for the third month. I was...

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