The Distant Journey
The frost bit into your bones before the sky even broke. You stood in the center of the sterile white room, the air conditioning humming a low, mechanical death song. It was a place of glass and steel, a cathedral for the modern soul, yet it felt like a tomb. You were twelve. You held the jar. It was not a pretty thing. Not at first. Inside the glass, a single leaf floated in stagnant water. It...
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