The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 12:07:25 -

The Pale Garden

"You have the ink on your hands," he said. I looked down. My palms were black. The stain was deep. It had soaked into the whorls of my fingerprints. It was dry now. It did not wash off. "We need to file the report, Margaret." I stood up. The chair scraped against the tile. The sound was sharp. It echoed in the small office. The walls were beige. The fluorescent lights buzzed. A low, constant...

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