The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-20 10:34:19 -

The Faded Bouquet

The air in the pantry smelled of yeast and rot. It was a thick, cloying scent that clung to the back of the throat, a physical weight against the lungs. I stood in the gloom, the flour dusting my hands like ash. The silence was not empty. It was full of the low hum of the refrigerator, a mechanical beast breathing in the dark. I had been here for three years. Three years of kneading, folding,...

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