The Faded Bouquet
The leather cover of the journal was slick with the dampness of Elias’s palm, the grain of the hide soft and yielding under his thumb as he pressed it against his chest to keep the wind from tearing it away. He had been walking for three days, his boots worn thin over the stones of the county road, the mud caking into the treads until his feet felt like they were wading in wet sand rather than...
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