The Faded Bouquet
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended, gray curtain that turned the windowpane into a mirror of distorted reflection where the room and the storm seemed to merge into a single, trembling entity. Elias stood before the glass, his breath fogging the surface, watching the water bead and slide down the panes in erratic, desperate streams that mimicked the erratic pulse of...
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