The Golden Visit
The chalk stick in Elias Thorne’s hand was soft, white, and costing him two cents a piece. He held it against the rough, oil-stained floor of the Oakhaven Ironworks, drawing a straight line that ran from the loading dock to the main gate. The sound of the chalk squeaking against the concrete was the only thing that mattered; it was a sound of precision, of order, of a man who knew exactly where...
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