The Distant Affair
The scalpel bit into the pad of my thumb, and I watched the red bead swell, heavy and hot, before I pressed it against the pale, translucent leaf of the orchid. The roots had already found the crack in the floorboards. They were not like the roots of the broom plants that grew wild in the terraces outside the signal tower; they were pale, fleshy things, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic throb that...
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