The Golden Downtown
The letter from the apothecary arrived on a Tuesday, sealed with black wax that crumbled under Elias’s thumb. The sum was four shillings and sixpence, a debt that had grown like mold in the damp corners of his ledger. He signed the receipt with a hand that felt too large for the pen, the ink staining the skin of his knuckles. Outside, the wind scraped against the stone walls of Blackrock...
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