The Faded Bouquet
She woke with the taste of iron and wet chalk on her tongue, the dream still clinging to her like a wet sheet, a nightmare of bells ringing underwater where the sound was not heard but felt in the marrow, a deep, resonant thrum that vibrated against the sternum and warned of a betrayal so intimate it felt like a physical wound, and she lay there in the grey, pre-dawn light of the city, which...
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