The Faded Bouquet

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 23:53:28 -

The Faded Bouquet

"You’re late," I say. My voice sounds thin. Like paper. We are standing in the corridor. The floor is black tile. It shines. It reflects our shoes. My sister, Clara, looks at me. She does not blink. Her eyes are wide. They are too bright. "Did you bring it?" she asks. I nod. My hand is in my pocket. My fingers curl around the object. It is cold. It is wet. I do not want to touch it. But I...

0 Comments 0 Shares 27 Views 0 Reviews