The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 12:31:45 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain against the slate roof of the infirmary did not sound like water; it sounded like the tapping of ten thousand tiny, desperate fingers, begging for entry into a world that had already forgotten how to open its doors. I sat in the corner, my knees drawn up to my chest, the wool of my grey uniform chafing against skin that felt too thin for the bones beneath it. The air smelled of boiled...

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