The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 09:43:21 -

The bowl was white. Porcelain, thin as an eggshell, glazed with a frost that had never quite melted. It sat on the mantelpiece, center stage, a silent judge in the quiet parlor of the house on Elm Street. I kept my hands in my pockets. I did not look at the bowl. I looked at the floorboards, the dark oak veins that mapped out a history I was no longer part of. It was a Tuesday. The air was...

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