The Distant Garden
The iron chain bit into your palm, the links cold and heavy as wet stone, as you hauled it across the threshold of the Old Botanical Annex. You were Elias Thorne, senior urban sanitation inspector, and you had spent three years delaying the final clearance for this demolition, a bureaucratic limbo you had maintained out of a devotion so obsessive it had begun to feel like a disease. Your...
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