The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-17 12:07:47 -

The feast was loud. It was too loud. The clatter of silver on porcelain. The hum of bees in the honeyed wine. I was the guest of honor, or so they said. My chair was high. The view was vast. But I was cold. I am a man of logic. I am a man of measurement. I measure the world in inches and ounces and degrees. I do not measure it in feelings. Feelings are leaks. Leaks in the hull. They sink the...

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