The Distant Garden

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2026-08-23 17:41:03 -

March 14 I have counted the minutes since the last meal. It is a precise arithmetic, cold and clean, like the tiling of the floor. I am forty-two years old, and I am a condemned man in the state penitentiary, wanting only to see my wife, Elara, one last time before the needle takes me. The opposing force is the Bureau of Corrections, which denies my request with the smooth, frictionless...

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