The Golden Suspect
"Put the ring back where it belongs, Habsah, before I put you in the wall with it." The smell of wet paper and rotting wood hung thick in the archive, a scent that had seeped into my clothes and my skin over the last three years of piece work. I stood before the Archivist, my hand trembling not from fear but from the heat radiating from the gold band on my left index finger, the metal so warm...
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