The Wistful Witness
The air in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s Academy for the Orphaned and Infirm hung thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and beeswax, a cloying, heavy perfume that seemed to coat the lungs and slow the very pulse of the heart, while the chandeliers above swung in a slow, hypnotic arc, casting long, trembling shadows across the faces of the gathered board members who sat in their high-backed...
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