The Golden Greenhouse
Act I Parvin Parsa, twelve years old and paid in dried fish, held the glass pane in his tunic like a stolen heart. The Abbot, a man of iron spine and softer fears, had ordered the Golden Greenhouse dismantled to pay for the new chapel roof. Parvin did not care for the roof. He cared for the light. The workshop smelled of wet wool and fear. The Abbot stood by the door, his shadow long and thin...
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