The Faded Bouquet
The count was a ritual of arithmetic, a way to hold the chaos of the world at bay by reducing it to integers. Elias Thorne counted the hours until the audit, the sheets of vellum, the ink blots that marred the pristine margins of the Abbey of St. Jude’s records. It was the year of our Lord 1348, and the air in the scriptorium smelled of rotting papyrus and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. He...
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