The Golden Crossing
The date is October 14th, and I am writing this from the breakroom on the third floor, where the coffee tastes of burnt metal and the silence is so thick it feels like it is pressing against my eardrums. I have just left Mara in the office, and she is no longer entirely a woman, for the lower half of her body has begun to fuse with the plaster of the eastern wall, a process that is painless,...
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