The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:38:59 -

The Wistful Petal

You are sitting at the head of the table, the one with the cracked mahogany that your father always said was a shame, though he never fixed it. The room is small, the walls a pale, sickly yellow, and the air is thick with the scent of roasted duck and the metallic tang of ozone. It is a party, or what passes for one in the house of the magistrate. There are about twenty people, all wearing...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews