The Golden Maze
The letter lay on the desk, its edges crisp against the worn wood, bearing the seal of the Meridian Institute in ink that had not yet fully dried. Elias Thorne read it twice, the second time slower, as if speed might alter the words. The Board had voted. The Golden Maze was to be removed. The grounds were sentimental clutter, an obstruction to the new east wing, and the cost of its preservation...
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