The Golden Downtown
The dream was not a dream but a recurring, soot-stained hallucination of gold, a blinding, circular light that burned behind Elias Thorne’s eyelids until the morning shift whistle shrieked across the valley of Harrow Creek, jolting him into the cold, damp reality of his sheriff’s office. He sat on the edge of the iron bed, his hands trembling not from the chill but from the phantom weight of...
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