The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-20 01:13:02 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a persistent, gray curtain drawn tight against the high, arched windows of the asylum, blurring the world outside into a smear of mud and dead hedgerow. I lay on the narrow iron bed, the springs groaning a low, metallic hymn that matched the rhythm of my own fractured breath. In the corner of the room, where the shadows pooled thickest, sat the...

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