The Faded Bouquet
Chapter One Erika Krueger stood in the cellar, her hands trembling not from fear, but from the cold damp that seeped through her leather apron. She was thirty-two, a glassblower in a town that smelled of ash and old wood, and she needed this vase to be whole. The master, old Heinrich, sat in his chair, blind as a stone, while the crack in the glaze whispered her dead husband’s name, a sound...
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