The Golden Crossing
Chapter One Was it the floor that had moved, or had Mafalda finally stopped pretending to be someone else? She woke to the weight of her husband, Tomás, fused into the hallway planks, his legs ending in a seam of dark, resinous wood that pulsed with a rhythm slower than her own. The house, a cellar-dwelling beneath the Porto docks where the floodwaters rose like karst towers, did not forgive...
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