The Distant Garden

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2026-08-22 01:17:00 -

The orchid was dead. I knew it before I touched it. The leaves were brown. Dry. Like paper. My fingers brushed the stem. It crumbled. Dust. It floated in the air. I did not breathe. My name is Elias Thorne. I am a guard. I work in the Department of Cultural Preservation. We keep things. Old things. Fragile things. We lock them away. We watch them die. The orchid sat on my desk. A gift. From my...

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