The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 11:41:16 -

The soot in your lungs tastes like iron and regret. You stand before the altar of St. Jude’s, the final batch of pure frankincense wrapped in oilcloth in your hands, while Father Thomas Bradshaw stands behind his oak desk, signing a ledger with a pen that clicks like a bone breaking. The air in the church is thick, not with incense, but with the smell of wet stone and the new, chemical tang of...

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