The Golden Circuit
October 14, 2024 The ring in the square has grown three inches since dawn, its golden mycelium pulsing with a rhythm that matches the arrhythmia in my chest, a syncopated throb that I can feel in my teeth and the soles of my feet as I sit at my desk, staring at the transfer papers that Halloway refuses to sign. I am forty-two years old, and my heart is a failing engine, yet I am trapped in this...
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