The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-18 11:18:50 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain did not fall; it hovered. It was a fine, grey mist that clung to the windows of the Milltown precinct, blurring the world outside into a watercolor smear of rust and slate. Sergeant Elias Thorne sat at his desk, the wood worn smooth by decades of elbows. He was a man of solid geometry, broad-shouldered and square-jawed, his uniform pressed to a sharpness that seemed out of place in the...

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