The Wistful Petal
The hammer struck the escapement wheel, and the sound was wrong. It did not ring; it thudded, a dull, wet impact like striking a ripe peach. Elias Thorne pulled his hand back, his knuckles white, the brass gears trembling in the air. He had come to Oakhaven to deliver a commission, a pocket watch for his wife Clara, a gesture of reconciliation after three years of silence. He wanted to see her...
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