The Golden Greenhouse
The rain slicked the pavement. I left the badge on the kitchen table. It sat there. A silver coin. Cold. I looked at my hands. They shook. Not from cold. From shame. My brother, Elias, sat in the corner. He didn’t look up. He was mending a net. The knot was tight. His jaw was tight. “Going?” he asked. “Leaving,” I said. The word felt heavy. Thick. Like wet wool. I reached for my coat. The wool...
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