The Golden Quest
The vibration in the floorboards was not a tremor but a pulse, a rhythmic throb that traveled up through the soles of your shoes and settled in the marrow of your shinbones. You stood in the center of the atrium, the dust motes hanging in the shafts of pale afternoon light like suspended debris, and you waited for Director Halloway to finish his sentence. He had been speaking for three minutes,...
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