The Faded Bouquet

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 23:01:53 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain hit the stone floor. It did not drip. It struck. Like a fist. Elias stood in the center of the room. His uniform was wet. Not from the weather. From the blood. He looked down. The red pooled around his boots. It looked like wine. Or rust. He was tired. So tired. His bones felt heavy. Like lead. Like iron. He had not slept in three days. Or three weeks. Time was a broken clock. It...

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