The Faded Bouquet
The room smelled of rot. Sweet, cloying, ancient. Mara sat on the floor. Her back against the cold brick. The air was thick. It pressed against her skin. Like wet wool. She watched the bowl. It sat on the table. White porcelain. Cracked. Inside, the food pulsed. It was not meat. Not fruit. It was something else. Something that breathed. It shifted. It looked back. Mara did not blink. She had...
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