The Golden Greenhouse
You leave the gate open. The wind whistles through the iron bars. It sounds like a woman crying. You do not look back. You walk toward the train station. The tracks are black and wet. The sky is grey. You carry a small bag. Inside the bag is a jar. The jar is full of green paste. It smells of crushed mint and blood. You hold it tight. The glass is cold. Your hands are shaking. You have been...
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