The Golden Harbor
The water in the glass turned the color of old brass, a sickly, opaque yellow that clung to the clear rim like grime. Mr. Thorne did not look at the liquid; he looked at Elara Vance, his eyes narrowing as if the gold were a stain on her skin rather than a reaction in the glass. She stood in the center of his office, her hands clasped so tightly the knuckles whitened, feeling the roughness of...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews