The Golden Greenhouse
The heavy iron gate of St. Jude’s Orphanage for Delinquent Boys groaned in the damp November air, a sound that was less a warning and more of a final, rattling exhalation, as if the building itself were tired of holding the secrets of its inhabitants and was ready to let the wind strip them away. We stood in the quadrangle, that cold, flagstone expanse where the shadows of the high walls...
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