The Wistful Petal
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, sealed with the heavy, crimson wax of the Department of Public Safety. It was a simple document, a termination of employment, but the weight of the paper in my hand felt akin to holding a lead weight. I was to vacate my post at the Millhaven Ironworks by dusk. I did not read the rest. I did not need to. The truth, like a cracked mirror, had already shattered the...
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