Daily Writing Blurb




The flowers in the main hall were wilted when she arrived home, and the candles were more than halfway burned down. "Where were you?" he asked, coming out of the study. "I got you flowers." "They're beautiful," she replied. He didn't ask her again as he looked into his glass of whiskey. She excused herself to bed and he didn't stop her.

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Photo: (c) Elsa Billgren


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