The Golden Greenhouse

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2026-08-20 09:51:37 -

The glass groaned. It was a low sound. A creak in the ribs of the world. I pressed my thumb against the pane. Cold. Always cold. The city hummed beyond the glass, a distant machine of steel and breath. I was alone. I am always alone when the work is done. "Thomas." My name hung in the air. Heavy. Opaque. I did not turn. I looked at the plant. It was not a plant. It was a cage. Golden bars, thin...

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