The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-21 14:46:18 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the lower ward into a slick, black mirror that reflected the weeping faces of the passersby. Inside the heavy oak doors of the Magistrate’s Hall, the air was thick with the smell of damp wool and old paper. Thomas Bradshaw stood by the window, his back to the room, his hands clasped behind his spine. He was a tall man, broad...

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