The Faded Photograph
The fern died on the first day. It sat in a ceramic pot on the desk of Arthur Penhaligon, a Senior Archivist at the Bureau of Anomalous Records. The leaves had turned to ash overnight. No fire. No heat. Just a slow, silent disintegration into gray dust that clung to the wood grain like soot. Arthur wiped it away. He wore white gloves. He did not look at the fern again. The fern was his. He had...
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