The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-20 12:22:41 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain hit the tin roof. It sounded like static. Elias sat alone. The room was small. A cot. A desk. A mirror. The mirror was cracked. A spiderweb of glass. He looked into it. He saw his face. It was a map of lines. Each line a memory. He touched the glass. Cold. He held the flower. It was blue. A forget-me-not. Or maybe a violet. It didn't matter. It was real. Wet. Damp. It smelled of earth....

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