The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-25 09:57:13 -

The Wistful Petal

Act I I am writing this from the cold side of the room, where the frost has crept up the glass and turned the view of the tin fields into a white blur. I remember the dream, or what passed for one, because it was too sharp to be sleep. I saw my wife’s fingers, cold and stiff, resting on the ledger, and I woke with the taste of iron in my mouth. It was forty-two, the age of a man who has signed...

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