The Golden Visit
Act I Anil Ganguly, thirty-five, had served the port for twelve years without a single error in his logbook. He stood at the edge of the quay, the air thick with the drone of the power station, watching the Golden Path shimmer across the cobblestones. It was a boundary that should not exist, a line of light visible only to those who had betrayed their oath. Anil felt the weight of his service...
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