The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-24 09:31:01 -

The Faded Bouquet

The mud was thick, a sucking, cold paste that clung to my boots with a tenacity that felt personal, as if the earth itself were trying to hold me down before I could even begin the climb into the black, wet forest where the war had left its silent, rotting mark on the world. I was twelve years old, and I wanted the white lily, that impossible bloom Father claimed grew only for the innocent, a...

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