The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-25 05:53:34 -

The Faded Bouquet

The attic smelled of damp wool and the sweet, rotting scent of old paper. I found the bouquet in a cedar chest that my mother had sworn was empty, a bundle of blackened roses tied with a ribbon the color of dried blood. The petals were not merely dry; they were brittle, like burnt sugar, and when I touched them, a coldness seeped into my fingertips that did not belong to the November air. Below...

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