The Golden Quest
Act I Did you ever wonder if the walls of a building could hold a grudge, Ray Zorn thought as he pushed the heavy oak door of the municipal archive open, the smell of wet wool and old rust hitting him before the dim light did? He was thirty-four, a junior archivist with a back that ached when the barometric pressure dropped, and he wanted tenure more than he wanted to breathe. The basement was...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews