The Golden Harbor
The counting of the silver coins took the better part of an hour, the metal cold and slick with the damp that always seeped up from the cellar floor of the fishmonger’s shop where you worked for sixpence a day. You needed exactly one silver coin to pay the gravedigger for the plot where your mother was to be laid to rest, a price that had risen by half a penny since the last funeral, a small...
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