The Distant Garden
The house stands on the hill, a monument of white stucco and slate, unchanging in the grey afternoon light. You have been here for three days, sitting in the study where the air smells of dust and old paper, watching the garden through the leaded glass. It is a perfect garden, or so the brochure claimed. Manicured hedges, a central fountain that chimes a single, clear note when the wind shifts,...
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