The Distant Garden

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2026-08-19 02:28:36 -

The air in the room tasted of stale dust and old paper, a dry, suffocating haze that clung to the back of my throat and settled in the creases of my skin. I sat at the edge of the mahogany desk, my hands folded tightly in my lap, the knuckles white with a tension that had become less a physical state and more a fundamental condition of my being, a permanent rigidity that I had long ago mistaken...

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