The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-22 16:16:37 -

The Faded Bouquet

The ink was wet. I wiped it on my sleeve, a dark smear against the faded wool, and watched the fibers absorb the stain. My hands were shaking, not from cold, but from the weight of the ledger that lay open on the desk. The pages were thick, heavy with the dust of a century, and the handwriting was a jagged script that seemed to scratch at my eyes. I had found it tucked behind the loose panel in...

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