The Distant Garden

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2026-08-20 15:37:17 -

The coat hung on the hook by the door, a heavy, charcoal wool thing that smelled of damp earth and old tobacco, and I stood there for an hour, just breathing, because the air in the office had turned into something thick, like syrup cooling in a bowl, and I could not make my legs move to leave, even though every instinct in my body was screaming at me to run, to run until my lungs burned out...

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