The Wistful Incense
The orchid on the windowsill had begun to die, its petals curling inward like fists that had held on too long, and I stood before the mirror in the sterile, white-tiled bathroom of the corporate wellness center, watching the flower shatter in my mind’s eye even as it remained intact on the shelf, a brittle, yellowing thing that smelled of nothing but decay and forgotten water. "Are you ready to...
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