The Golden Master
The ledger weighed four pounds, three ounces, and a lifetime of silence. You counted the pages, one by one, the paper brittle as old skin, until the number matched the index card in your pocket. Thirty-two years old, and your hands still shook when you touched the spine of the Golden Master. The Ministry of Records smelled of damp wool and oxidized iron, a scent that had settled into the pores...
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