The Golden Song
The ivy on the south wall of the St. Jude’s Community Center had grown thick and dark, a living tapestry of green velvet that swallowed the brickwork whole. I used to love it. I used to think it was a testament to persistence, to the quiet, stubborn way life insists on covering our scars. Now, standing before it with my hands trembling in the damp October air, I saw only rot. The leaves were...
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