The Distant Garden
The train pulled into Manchester Central with a shudder that rattled the bones of the carriage. Dr. Elias Thorne stood at the window, his reflection ghostly against the grey sky. He clutched a small, velvet-wrapped bundle against his chest. Inside was an emerald scarf, the last thing his wife had worn before the fever took her. The silk was stiff with age, but the color remained vibrant, an...
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