The Wistful Letter
The roast was pink. The wine was red. The laughter was loud. Professor Elias Thorne sat at the head of the table. He wore a suit that had been tailored for a man ten pounds lighter. He did not eat. He watched the steam rise from the asparagus. It curled. It vanished. "You are quiet, Elias," said Lord Blackwood. He cut a slice of beef. The knife scraped the plate. A harsh sound. "I am...
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