The Distant Garden
You wear the coat. It is wool. Grey. Heavy. It smells of dust and old tobacco. You button it to the chin. The buttons are brass. They are cold against your skin. You are in the hall. The hall is long. The lights are fluorescent. They buzz. The sound is sharp. It cuts the air. You are a guard. You are not a man. You are a function. You stand by the door. You wait. The door opens. He enters. He...
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