The Golden Oath
The chisel bit into the granite, sending a sharp, gritty spray across the floorboards, and I did not stop to wipe the sweat from my brow because the deadline was three days away and the stone was still rough where it needed to be smooth. My hands, calloused and cracked, moved with the mechanical precision of twenty years’ labor, shaping the base of the memorial that was supposed to honor my...
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