The Faded Bouquet
The glass was cracked, a spiderweb of fractures running from the base to the rim. Elias Thorne stared at the vase. The water inside had turned the color of rust. Silas stood by the door, his coat still damp from the rain. He did not look at the flower. He looked at his boots. "You have sold it," Elias said. His voice was flat, stripped of inflection. Silas nodded. Once. A mechanical motion....
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