The Faded Bouquet
"You’re going to ruin the whole thing, aren’t you? The mold is already spreading, and you’re just standing there holding that jar like it’s a holy relic." I did not look up from the counter where the heavy glass jar sat, its contents swirling in a slow, viscous eddy of pale yellow liquid that smelled faintly of yeast and old pennies, the air in the kitchen thick and stagnant despite the windows...
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