The Faded Bouquet
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a thick, gray curtain that erased the boundary between the garden and the house, leaving Elara Vane standing in the foyer of her late husband’s estate, watching the world dissolve into a watery smear. She was seventy-four, a woman whose spine had long since surrendered its rigid architecture to the gentle, crushing weight of time, yet she stood with...
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