The Golden Echoes
"Did you actually send it?" The voice came from the doorway, dry and brittle as the linoleum under my feet. I didn’t turn. I was too busy watching the rain streak the dark glass of my office window, each drop a small, violent interruption of the gray city outside. In the reflection, my own face stared back, disheveled, pale, and frantic, but the figure in the glass seemed to hold a strange,...
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