The Golden Downtown
Thorne. The name hangs in the air, a heavy, metallic thing that does not belong to the morning, and you wake with the taste of iron and old dust on your tongue, the sheets tangled around your legs like the roots of a strangled vine. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a historian who has spent two decades polishing the brass surfaces of a town’s history until they gleamed with a false, golden...
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