The Pale Garden
The train slows. The wheels hum. You step off. The air is cold. It bites. You smell wet earth. You smell rot. You smell rain. This is the place. This is the end. You carry the box. It is heavy. It is small. It is yours. The village is gray. The houses lean. They watch you. They do not welcome you. They do not hate you. They just watch. You walk to the center. The square is empty. The fountain...
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