The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-21 23:47:36 -

The Wistful Petal

The taste of iron and wet chalk filled the back of my throat, a metallic tang that refused to fade even as the sun began to bleed out over the jagged skyline of the town, casting long, distorted shadows across the cobblestones where the air smelled of damp wool and impending rain. I stood in the doorway of the bakery, my fingers still stained with the ghostly white of flour, watching the figure...

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