The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-23 05:14:48 -

The Faded Bouquet

The loom struck against the shuttle with a sound like a bone snapping, and I flinched, my hand gripping the edge of the desk until the wood bit into my palm. The air in the Blackwood Textile Mill was thick with the scent of damp wool and old iron, a smell that had seeped into the pores of my skin since I first arrived in Manchester, a ghost of a man seeking a ghost of a future. I wanted only to...

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