The Golden Greenhouse
The rain didn’t stop. It just changed its mind about how to fall, shifting from a polite drizzle to a heavy, accusatory downpour that turned the pavement into a mirror of grey and black. I stood on the corner of 4th and Elm, holding my umbrella like a shield against an invisible enemy, and watched the reflection of my own face ripple and distort in the puddles. It was a face I didn’t recognize....
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