The Distant Garden

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2026-08-19 09:28:40 -

The skin on my hands was peeling in long, translucent ribbons, hanging off my knuckles like dead insects. I sat on the cold concrete floor of the storage unit, the fluorescent light above buzzing with a low, electric hum that seemed to vibrate in my teeth. My fingers were raw, bleeding points of red against the pale yellow dust that coated everything. I was trying to fix the clock. Not the...

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