The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-23 21:53:26 -

The Faded Bouquet

"Vane! You’re bleeding, you fool." The voice of Miller, our lead surveyor, cut through the damp air of the Blackwood Gorge with a sharpness that belied his exhaustion. I wiped my forehead with a sleeve that was already stiff with mud and iron filings, the taste of copper thick on my tongue. It was November, 1893, and the light was failing, the sun dropping low behind the jagged teeth of the...

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