The Golden Greenhouse
The letter is in your pocket. You can feel the weight of it. It is a small, square thing. It smells of sulfur and old paper. You are standing in the kitchen. The linoleum is peeling. Your name is Arthur. You are a man who has forgotten how to forget. You look at the wall. There is a crack. It runs from the ceiling to the floor. It looks like a vein. It looks like a road. You touch it. It is...
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