The Faded Bouquet
The air in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s Orphanage was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and stale fear. It was a feast, they called it. The annual gathering where the directors of the charity sat in high-backed chairs, eating too much meat and speaking too softly, while the children sat on the floor, hands folded in their laps, waiting for the judgment. Elias stood by the window, his...
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