The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-17 10:29:04 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain did not fall; it was extracted from the sky, a violent, grey bleeding that soaked through the wool of your coat and into the marrow of your bones, turning the cobblestones of the old town into slick, black mirrors that reflected nothing but your own distorted, trembling face. You were running, or perhaps you were only being dragged by the weight of the knowledge you carried, a heavy,...

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