The Distant Garden
"Look at it." I turned. The glass case held a single orchid. It was white. Its petals were split. "Broken," I said. "Shattered," the woman corrected. She wore a suit of grey wool. Her smile was thin. "It fell. From the height. Gravity did its work. You see the pieces? They are not whole. They are fragments. Dust and light." I looked again. The flower was indeed ruined. A jagged tear ran through...
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