The Golden Greenhouse

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 16:11:07 -

The bus smelled of wet wool and old diesel, a thick, cloying scent that seemed to cling to the back of my throat, a physical weight that I could not shake, and I sat by the window watching the grey fields of the interior roll by in a blur of brown and black, while the man in the seat across from me, a figure of indeterminate age with hands that trembled like leaves in a dry wind, stared at me...

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