The Golden Crossing
The iron coat was heavy, a burden of riveted plates that scraped against Elias Thorne’s shoulders with every step he took down the soot-choked streets of 1924. "You’ll wear it until the end of the line," the Captain had said, his voice dry as old paper, "or until the gold takes you." Elias adjusted the collar, the leather stiff and cracked from years of sweat and salt. He needed the pension. He...
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