The Golden Downtown
The porcelain cup is shattered in your hands, the shards biting into the meat of your palms, the blood mixing with the white dust and the dark, viscous residue of the tonic. You are Elias Thorne, a constable of thirty-four years, and the woman on the settee before you is not your wife, nor your mother, but your daughter, Clara, whose chest heaves in a rhythm that no longer matches the beat of...
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