The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-19 10:12:46 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain did not fall; it hung in the air like a suspended judgment, a grey curtain that blurred the edge of the world and the edge of myself. I stood in the center of the courtyard, which was no longer stone but a shifting mosaic of wet slate and ancient, breathing moss. The sky above was a bruised purple, swollen with clouds that had no business existing in a place that should have been a...

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