The Faded Bouquet
I counted the petals by the light of a single tallow candle, each one a dried, brittle leaf of violet that crumbled slightly under the pressure of my tweezers. There were twelve remaining, enough for three tinctures if the extraction yielded a high concentration of the volatile oils, but the scent was already fading, turning from the sharp, medicinal bite of crushed sage and iron to a dusty,...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews