The Golden Greenhouse

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2026-08-21 18:47:22 -

The rain hit the stone roof like a thousand small hammers. It was a cold, relentless drumming. I sat by the window. The glass was cold against my cheek. I watched the drops run down in jagged lines. Each one blurred the world outside. The world was grey. The world was wet. "Is it going to stop?" asked Thomas. He sat in the chair across from me. His hands were folded in his lap. He looked at me....

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