The Distant Garden

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2026-08-18 14:14:20 -

The garden was dying. Not withering, as old things do in autumn, but unmaking itself. The roses had lost their petals, leaving behind only thorned sticks that pointed accusingly at the grey sky. The ivy on the stone wall had turned to ash, crumbling at a touch. I stood in the center of the plot, the earth cold and wet beneath my boots. It was late November, and the fog sat low, swallowing the...

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