The Golden Visit
Elara. The name was called out by the head porter, a voice like gravel grinding in a tin can, echoing off the cold brick walls of the station platform. She did not turn. She was busy pulling the heavy wool coat over her shoulders, the fabric stiff and damp with the November chill that seeped through the floorboards. The coat cost forty pounds, a sum she had not possessed for three months, yet...
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