The Golden Greenhouse
The suitcase was heavy. It weighed more than Eleanor had expected for a garment bag, a single coat, and a few changes of linen. She dragged it across the gravel driveway, the wheels catching on the stones, emitting a low, grinding complaint. The house stood silent behind her. The doors were locked. The windows were dark. She was leaving. Or rather, she had been leaving for three days, but only...
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