The Golden Greenhouse
The air in the basement of St. Jude’s Orphanage smelled of wet wool and the distinct, metallic tang of old brass, a scent that had settled into the very pores of the walls over decades, defying the scrubbing efforts of the nuns and the seasonal deep cleans. It was a place of quiet accumulation, a repository for things that no longer had a use in the upper floors but could not quite be...
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