The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 01:04:50 -

The Wistful Petal

I woke with the taste of copper in my mouth. It was the old taste. The taste of duty. I stood up. The floor was cold. The city hummed outside. A low, electrical thrum. It vibrated in my teeth. I looked at my hands. They were red. Not with blood. With something else. A thick, viscous red. It looked like jam. It looked like medicine. I could not wash it off. I tried. The water ran clear. The red...

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