The Golden Greenhouse

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-20 10:29:39 -

The mist did not lift. It stayed, a thick white wool pressed against the windows of the train, blurring the world into a soft, indistinct gray. I sat by the window, my hands folded in my lap, watching the fog swallow the trees as they passed. The rhythm of the tracks was a dull, persistent thud against my skull. I was going to see the greenhouse. Or rather, I was going to see the place where...

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