The Faded Bouquet
The chandelier above the Grand Salon of Blackwood Manor casts a fractured light, a constellation of trapped flies in amber, illuminating the velvet drapes that have rotted in their heavy folds and the floorboards that groan under the weight of a history they can no longer carry. You stand at the edge of the room, your fingers white-knuckled around the stem of a wine glass that holds nothing but...
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