The Distant Garden
You stand in the hallway. The floor is cold stone. It has been cold for a century. You are wearing a suit that fits too well. The fabric whispers against your skin. It smells of lavender and dust. You are an investigator. This is your job. You look for things that are missing. Or things that are there when they should not be. The institution is the Hall of Records. It is a place of silence. The...
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