The Golden Downtown
Chapter One Did I ever truly love the Ginkgo, or did I simply need the world to remain still long enough for me to breathe? I ask this because the air in the atrium was so heavy with damp loam and ozone that it felt less like a smell and more like a physical weight pressing against my sternum, a pressure that mirrored the tightness in my chest as I stood before Director Halloway. The...
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