The Distant Garden
The bottle in your hand is heavy, the glass thick and clouded with years of handling, and the liquid inside is the color of dark honey, almost black in the low light of the warehouse. You turn it over, watching the viscous stream cling to the side, a final check of the viscosity before you cork it. It is a good batch, the best you have made in a decade, distilled from the white oak that grew on...
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