The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 18:11:17 -

The Pale Garden

The rain fell on the roof of the station like static on a dead channel. I stood by the window, watching the gray streaks blur the platform below. My hands were shaking. Not from cold, though the air in the train carriage was thin and biting. It was the weight of the coat. It hung on my shoulder, a heavy thing of charcoal wool, tailored to fit a frame that was no longer mine. It had been waiting...

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