The Golden Greenhouse
The jar sat on the desk. It was green. Not the green of leaves, but the green of old sea glass. It was perfect. I had been looking for it for three days. My boss, Mr. Halloway, said it was a mistake. He said I was seeing things. I said it was there. He tapped the desk. It was empty. I looked again. It was there. I am a clerk. I file papers. I drink tea. I go home. I live in a small town where...
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