The Golden Greenhouse
The van’s engine ticked in the cold, a metallic shiver that seemed to seep through the floorboards and into the soles of your shoes, but you did not move. You sat in the passenger seat, hands resting loosely on your knees, watching the gray November rain streak the windshield in erratic, jagged lines that blurred the world into a watercolor of mud and steel. You were on a journey, though the...
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