The Golden Visit
Elias Thorne, the magistrate’s voice was flat, devoid of the usual courtesy that one might expect from a man of the law, but it carried the specific weight of a gavel strike. It was a sound that had been echoing in my skull for three years, ever since the war ended and the silence began. I stood in the office of Magistrate Halloway, the air thick with the smell of stale tobacco and the damp...
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