The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-22 17:03:22 -

The Faded Bouquet

October 14. The sound is not in the walls. It is in the air. A low, wet grinding, like bone snapping under pressure. I am standing in the east wing of Blackwood Palace, holding my tablet, my knuckles white. The retrofit is due for sign-off in forty-eight hours. My pension. Twenty years of service. All of it hinges on this final certification. If the structure is stable, I walk away with my...

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