The Pale Garden

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2026-08-19 08:12:07 -

The Pale Garden

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, grey mist that clung to the wool of my coat and settled into the pores of my skin. We were walking, my father and I, toward the house on the hill. It was a journey we had made before, but the path felt different now, longer, the mud sucking at our boots with a sound like wet breath. My father walked ahead, his back rigid, a silhouette...

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