The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 23:02:42 -

The Wistful Petal

The locket broke on the third day. It was a small thing. A gold band, thin as a hair, holding a portrait of my wife, Clara. It had been around my neck for thirty years. It smelled of her lavender soap. It smelled of my own sweat and the salt air of the harbor. I held it in my palm. The glass was cracked. The face inside was split. One eye looked left. The other looked right. It was a ruin. I...

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