The Golden Circuit
October 12, 1911 The brass button catches the lamplight, a small, cold sun in the palm of your hand. You hold it up to the glass of the outpost window, the frost on the pane blurring the dark treeline into a smear of grey and black. Your thumb rubs the tarnish, a circular motion, over and over, until the skin on the pad of your finger splits and beads with blood. You do not stop. The blood...
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