The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-21 10:01:17 -

The Faded Bouquet

The train cut through the mist like a rusted blade slicing through damp wool, its rhythm a monotone thrumming that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones. I sat in the corner of the second-class carriage, my hands resting on the wooden table, white-knuckled around a porcelain cup that had gone cold an hour ago. The institution, the Bureau of Anomalous Containment, had sent me north to...

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