The Distant Garden

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2026-08-18 16:17:44 -

The glass was warm. I held it in my left hand. My right hand was empty. It was a vase. Blue. Cracked. I stood in the garden. The grass was black. Not dead. Black. Like soil. I looked at the vase. I looked at the sky. The sky was the color of old teeth. There were no clouds. There were no birds. There was only the silence. And the wind. The wind smelled of iron. I was a soldier. Or I had been. I...

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