The Faded Bouquet
Chapter One Do you remember the sound of the auctioneer closing the lot? It was a sharp, final snap, like a bone breaking under pressure. I stood at the back of the hall in the retraining center, my hands still stiff from the cold, watching the gavel fall on the last of the seed line. The room smelled of wet wool and diesel. I was there to buy a taxi medallion, a purchase made at the peak of...
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