The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-19 22:36:26 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain hit the asphalt in sheets. Cold. Wet. I was bleeding from the nose. The taste of copper filled my mouth. Thick. Iron. I stood in the center of the intersection. Traffic had stopped. Cars idled. Engines hummed. A low, angry drone. I looked down at my hands. They were trembling. Not from fear. From exertion. From the strange, hollow calm that follows the act of breaking something. Or...

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