The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-22 16:03:38 -

The Faded Bouquet

The ledger had forty-two pages, each one a thin, damp sheet of paper that smelled of mildew and old ink. I counted the coins in the till, three pounds and twelve shillings, enough to buy bread but not enough to pay the mortgage on the shop. Outside, the rain in Oakhaven was a gray curtain, soaking into the cobblestones and seeping through the floorboards, a cold that settled in the joints and...

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