The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-17 21:37:13 -

The Faded Bouquet

The air in the Hall of Records smelled of dust and wet wool. It was a thick, cloying scent that clung to the back of the throat. Outside, the rain lashed against the high windows of the university. The glass rattled. Inside, the silence was heavier. Dr. Arthur Penhaligon stood before the long oak table. He was a small man. His suit was brown and worn at the elbows. His hands trembled. He held a...

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