The Golden Mirror
"Do you remember the number, Elias? The specific entry." Elias Thorne blinked, the fluorescent hum of the office pressing against his temples like a dull migraine. He looked at the screen, the numbers swimming in a grid of gray pixels that refused to cohere into meaning. He was fifty-eight years old, and the world was beginning to slip through his fingers like wet sand, a slow, granular erosion...
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