The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-23 04:12:38 -

The Faded Bouquet

Thorne, you are late again. The voice cut through the fog of my sleep, sharp and bureaucratic, before I was even fully awake. I jolted upright in the narrow bed of my flat, the mattress springs groaning under the sudden shift in weight. It was not a dream, or rather, it was the tail end of one that had been haunting me for weeks: my mother’s hand, blackened and rotting, gripping the hem of a...

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