The Distant Garden
The bus hissed to a halt on the asphalt of Millhaven, a sound like a dying breath that seemed to swallow the entire Tuesday afternoon. I stepped down, the metal rung cold against my palm, carrying a duffel bag that felt heavier than its contents should have, filled with the quiet gravity of a life I was trying to leave behind. The air here was thick, not with humidity, but with a kind of static...
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