The Faded Bouquet
The Palace of Saint Jude does not look like a prison, though it functions as one. It is a sprawling, neo-classical complex in the heart of the city, its limestone facade scrubbed clean by modern maintenance crews, its windows reflecting the gray winter sky with a deceptive clarity. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a senior archivist, and you are holding a bouquet of dried lilies. They are...
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