The Golden Crossing
Three hundred and twelve stones. That is the count. I have marked them in red chalk on the limestone, a grid of small dots across the damp interior wall of St. Jude’s Chapel. The chalk dust settles in the crevices of my knuckles, gritty and white. I am Elias Thorne, a structural engineer. I am forty years old. I want the foundation to hold. The stone hums. It is a low frequency, below the...
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