The Golden Greenhouse
The mud had a metallic taste, or perhaps it was the copper blood of the neighbor’s dog, or maybe it was just the iron-rich earth of the valley itself, but it coated my teeth with a gritty, rust-colored film that I could not scrub away no matter how many times I rinsed my mouth with the cold, stagnant water from the garden hose, and as I stood there in the middle of the backyard, shivering in a...
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