The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-20 19:53:18 -

The Faded Bouquet

The iron gates of the manor did not open. They never had. I stood before them in the grey mist, my breath visible in the cold air, holding a bouquet of dead lilies. The stems were black, brittle, snapping under the weight of my own grip. I was holding them to keep my hands from shaking. The flowers were my anchor. They were the only thing that felt real in this place where the sky hung low and...

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