The Faded Bouquet
The dream always began with the scent of rotting lilies, a cloying, sweet stench that clung to the back of Elias Thorne’s throat like a physical weight. He woke with a gasp, his heart hammering against his ribs in the dim, gray light of his apartment in Harrowgate, the small town nestled in the misty valleys of the Pacific Northwest. On his desk, amidst the scattered stacks of municipal records...
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