The Faded Bouquet
The velvet ribbon, once the deep, arterial crimson of a fresh wound, had surrendered its pigment to the relentless friction of years, fading into the dull, dusty ochre of dried blood, a textile artifact that Elara held in her hands with the trembling reverence of a surgeon handling a severed limb, the fabric soft and frayed against her fingertips, its structural integrity compromised by the...
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