The Faded Road
You count the coins in your left pocket as you walk past the reading room, the metal clinking against the lining with a sound like dry bones. Three pennies, two nickels, one dime. That is seven days of bread if you skip the coffee, and the coffee is the only thing that keeps your hands from shaking so badly you cannot turn a page. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, and the junior archivist of St....
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