The Faded Bouquet

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 19:46:40 -

The Faded Bouquet

The window is cracked. A sliver of night air cuts the room. It smells of rust. It smells of damp wool. You sit on the floor. The floor is cold. Your knees press into the wood. You are seven. You are holding the glass. The glass is clear. The glass is thin. Mother stands by the stove. The iron is black. The fire is low. She does not look at you. She looks at the pot. The water boils. The steam...

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