The Faded Bouquet
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended mist that clung to the slate roof of the manor house, blurring the distinction between the stone and the sky until the building seemed less like a structure and more like a bruise on the horizon. Inside the library, where the air smelled of damp wool, old parchment, and the faint, sweet decay of lilies that had long since lost their...
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