The Faded Bouquet

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 23:26:20 -

The Faded Bouquet

The hall smelled of wet wool and old wax. It was a smell that clung to the skin, thick and suffocating. The firelight danced in the dark corners. It did not warm. It only watched. Eleanor stood by the table. Her hands were still. They were very white. The linen was stiff against her palms. She adjusted the napkin. One corner was askew. She smoothed it. Again. The cloth would not lie flat. The...

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