The Pale Garden
The rotunda smelled of wet plaster and old salt. Marianna Krawczyk stood before the central figure of the Pale Garden mural, her left hand trembling as she presented the final restoration report to Director Nowak. The room was cold, the kind of damp that settles in the bones, and the sea fret outside had erased the town, leaving the Ministry a floating island of stone and bureaucracy. Nowak, a...
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