The Distant Garden
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray curtain that blurred the boundary between the windowpane and the wet asphalt outside, turning the world into a watercolor smear of indeterminate hues. I sat in my office, the air conditioning humming a low, mechanical lullaby that did little to penetrate the dampness that had settled into the bones of the building and, it seemed, into...
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