The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-17 12:31:56 -

The banquet hall smelled of roasted lamb and old dust. Margaret stood by the window. Outside, the rain fell in silver sheets. It hammered against the glass. A hard, relentless rhythm. Inside, the music played on. Violins wept high notes. Cellos hummed low, dark notes. The air was thick with smoke and perfume. Margaret adjusted her gloves. The leather was stiff. It chafed her wrists. She looked...

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