The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-21 19:36:19 -

The Faded Bouquet

The bell tolled. It was a heavy sound, iron on iron, vibrating in the marrow of my bones. I stood at the edge of the cloister garden, watching the morning mist peel away from the stone walls of St. Jude’s. My father held my hand. His grip was tight. Too tight. The knuckles were white. "We are leaving, Thomas," he said. His voice was low, a rasp like dry leaves skittering over pavement. I looked...

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