The Distant Garden
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world into a soft, indistinct smear of wet asphalt and sodium light. I stood in the doorway of the clinic, my coat heavy with the damp chill of the November night, watching the water bead on the glass. Inside, the fluorescent lights hummed with a low, electric sickness that seemed to vibrate in my...
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