The Distant Garden

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2026-08-22 01:32:29 -

The fluorescent tube above the intake counter buzzed with a sound that felt less like electricity and more like a migraine trapped in glass. I sat on the plastic stool, my fingers digging into the seams of my trousers, watching the dust motes dance in the harsh, sterile light. It was a Tuesday. It was always a Tuesday when the world decided to tilt on its axis. I was twenty-two, young enough to...

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