The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-20 18:59:57 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain does not wash the city clean; it merely slicks the grime into a darker, more viscous layer, turning the asphalt of the underpass into a mirror that reflects the fractured, neon-drenched sky above. You stand in the center of this wet void, your back against the cold, damp concrete of the pillar, your hands resting on the hilt of your service pistol, the leather worn soft by the friction...

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