The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-22 17:24:46 -

The Wistful Petal

Thorne. The name hung in the air, heavy as wet wool. I turned. Director Halloway stood by the door. His face was tight. The gala was ending. The chandeliers buzzed. I held the pot. The Wistful Petal sat inside. It was small. It was grey. It looked dead. "Mr. Thorne," Halloway said. He did not look at the flower. He looked at my hands. They were shaking. "I have heard your proposal," he said....

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