The Distant Garden
The bus stops. You step out. The air is thick, wet, smelling of wet wool and diesel. You are in the town of Oakhaven. It is a place that exists only on the map, a gray smudge between the highway and the river. You carry a suitcase. It is heavy. It contains your past. It contains your failure. It contains the letter. The building stands before you. It is the Municipal Archive. It is not a...
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