The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-24 18:31:53 -

The Faded Bouquet

Thorne. The name hung in the air of the Director’s office, sharp and cold, cutting through the stale scent of old paper and floor wax. Elias stood by the door, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat. The wool was thick, matted, and smelled of damp earth, a heavy burden that seemed to pull his shoulders down toward the linoleum. He had come to speak of Julian, of the missing funds, of the...

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