The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-20 09:51:15 -

The Wistful Petal

The morning mist clung to the cobblestones of Millhaven like a shroud that refused to be shaken off, dampening the wool of my greatcoat and seeping into the very marrow of my bones as I stood before the heavy oak door of the town’s only bakery, watching the rhythmic, hypnotic rise and fall of the steam venting from the chimney above. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of yeast and burnt...

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