magic
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The cruelest spell needs no candles or chanting—only a promise of tomorrow that never arrives.
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At three in the morning, the world goes quiet enough for old houses, moonlight, and sleepless women to remember each other’s names.
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Theo fills his pockets with feathers, rocks, leaves, and stories, collecting little miracles where grown-ups usually collect worries.
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If she disappears, look where ivy devours forgotten houses and the hedge witch sits barefoot among candles, smoke, crows, and wild things.
Between Bruises & Blooms 