The Faded River

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2026-08-20 10:41:43 -

The Faded River

The room is white. It hums. You sit at the desk. The wood is cold. You hold the vase. It is glass. Thin. Blue. Inside, a single orchid. It was yellow. Now it is brown. Dried. Cracked. You bought it last year. The day you got the promotion. You remember the smell. Sweet. Cloying. Like old perfume. Like rot. The vase is in your hand. You do not put it down. Your fingers are white. The knuckles...

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