The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 18:25:12 -

The smoke rose in a tight, grey column. It did not drift. It did not curl. It stood rigid in the still air of the office. Eleanor held the stick between her fingers. The heat was gentle. It was a small, living thing. She watched the ember. It pulsed like a heart. The room was cold. The city outside was loud. But here, there was only the scent. Sandalwood. Myrrh. The smell of old prayers....

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