The Golden Maze
The rain did not fall. It hung. Mara stood in the center of the greenhouse. Glass walls. Steel bones. Outside, the world was gray. Inside, it was green. Green. The ferns unfurled. The orchids opened. The moss crept up the stone walls. It was alive. It was hungry. Mara touched a leaf. It was cold. It was wet. It felt like skin. She was seven. She was always seven. Or maybe she was twenty. Time...
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