The Distant Garden

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2026-08-20 03:50:42 -

The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, grey curtain that blurred the edges of the city into a watercolor wash of slate and rust. Inside the office on the fourteenth floor, the air was dry and smelled faintly of ozone and stale coffee. Arthur Penhaligon sat at his desk, a small island of mahogany in a sea of beige carpet, and stared at the ceramic mug in his hands. It was a simple...

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