The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-18 19:32:29 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain hit the pavement in sheets, grey and relentless, turning the city into a blur of wet concrete and neon smear. Arthur stood on the corner, his umbrella broken, the canvas snapped like a dead wing. He watched the water pool around his shoes, cold seeping through the thin soles. You’re late, the voice in his head whispered. It was his brother’s voice. Or maybe his father’s. Hard to tell...

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