The Golden Echoes
The iron beams hummed at a frequency that matched the throb behind Arthur’s eyes, a low, resonant chord that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of his bones. He stood in the center of the loom hall, his hat in his hand, watching the dust motes dance in the slant of afternoon light that cut through the broken skylights. The building was dying, he knew that, but it died with a dignity that felt...
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