The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-24 16:55:16 -

The Wistful Petal

The red wisteria petal sat on the ledger, a smear of wet crimson against the dry, yellowed paper. You brushed it aside with your thumb, the texture slick and cold, like a fresh bruise. It was there again. Every morning for three weeks, the petal had appeared on your desk in the Oakhaven Archives, a silent, bloody accusation. You were thirty-two, a junior archivist, and you wanted the title of...

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