The Distant Garden
The dream is not of a garden, as you were promised, but of a garden that has been filed, sorted, and archived in the cold, sterile light of a bureaucratic basement, where the soil is a gray powder labeled *S-4* and the flowers are geometric paper cutouts that do not wilt because they have never once breathed. You stand before the Director, a man whose name is so long and convoluted it seems...
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