The Distant Garden

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2026-08-20 19:07:04 -

The dream that persisted through the waking hours was not of the garden itself, but of the iron gate, which stood open in a way that suggested not invitation but abandonment, as if the keepers had fled in such haste that the heavy hinges had never been closed to seal the summer out. Arthur Penhaligon woke in the small hours of the morning with the taste of rust on his tongue, a metallic tang...

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