A small vial containing the petal, part of the letter, and the ebony liquid that held them together hung around her neck; yet neatly hidden in the folds of her blouse.
Sandra walked the trail to the Manor as the sun started to hide behind the grey clouds, sinking into oblivion. The leaves crunched under her steps; like her spirit, the leaves disintegrate into the earth. Arriving at the grand door of the Manor, she clasped the heavy brass knocker, sighed, and knocked three times.
Oddly enough, the servant let her in without any hesitation. After being led through several corridors and making several turns, she found herself in the drawing room.
And found him there as well, asleep in a worn-down rouge armchair, his face illuminated by the flickering candlelight.
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