The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-20 10:28:22 -

The Faded Bouquet

The champagne was warm. It had been sitting in the ice bucket for three hours, sweating against the silver, losing its bite, losing its soul. Margaret Holloway held a flute in her hand, the liquid trembling inside like a trapped bird. She smiled. She always smiled. It was the most dangerous thing she owned. "Another?" asked Julian Thorne. He was leaning against the marble mantel, a cigarette...

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