The Golden Crossing
Chapter One Does a stone remember the weight of the horse that broke its back? Niamh Kilbride asked the question to the empty chapel, the one with the mismatched pews where the varnish had peeled away in long, flaking strips like dead skin. It was a question for the silence, and the silence, as usual, offered nothing but the damp cold that seeped up through her boots. She was forty-two, a...
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