The Distant Joke
The orchard was dying. Marcus saw the leaves curling. They turned brown at the edges. Then they fell. He stood on the porch. He watched them land. They made no sound. He was a scholar. He studied trees. Or rather, he studied the data of trees. The carbon. The water. The decline. He had a grant. It was large. It came from the Council. The Council liked order. They liked things that could be...
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