The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-24 10:48:55 -

The Faded Bouquet

The coal fire in the hearth of the manor house spat and hissed, a dry, skeletal sound that seemed to echo through the high, vaulted ceilings of the library where you sat, your hands folded in your lap, waiting for the rain to stop, though it had been falling since dawn and showed no sign of letting up. You were forty years old, Arthur Penhaligon, and you had not spoken a full sentence in three...

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