The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-21 15:05:29 -

The Faded Bouquet

The mud was not merely wet; it was a living, sucking thing, a dark paste that clung to the soles of Margaret’s boots with a tenacity that felt almost personal, as if the earth itself resented her passage. She did not look up. To look up was to admit the sky, and the sky offered nothing but the gray, iron promise of more rain, more cold, and the relentless, grinding weight of the world pressing...

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