The Golden Greenhouse
The sky broke open on a Tuesday. Not with rain, but with light. A vertical shaft of pure, white brilliance pierced the clouds above the village of Oakhaven and struck the earth with a sound like a bell ringing inside a skull. Thomas Whitmore was in his garden when it happened. He was kneeling in the dirt, his hands deep in the loam, trying to coax a life from a dead rose bush. He was old. His...
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