The Golden Greenhouse

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 15:52:17 -

The train shuddered. I gripped the handle. My knuckles turned white. The glass was cold. It burned my palm. We were moving. We were always moving. The landscape blurred. Green fields. Grey skies. The rhythm of the tracks. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. I counted the seconds. One. Two. Three. Four. I had to keep count. If I stopped counting, the noise would get in. The noise in my head. It was loud...

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