The Distant Garden

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2026-08-20 03:05:36 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a gray curtain that smelled of wet asphalt and decay. "You are late," I said. My voice sounded thin inside my throat. Elias stood by the open window of the diner. He was a large man, built like a doorframe, but his shoulders were hunched. He wore a coat that had seen better decades. The fabric was fraying at the elbows. He did not look at me....

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