The Golden Downtown
The banquet hall smells of roasted lamb and stale wine, a thick, cloying sweetness that sits heavy on the tongue and refuses to be washed away by the watered-down cups passed from hand to hand, and you sit at the head of the long oak table, your fingers trembling slightly as you reach for a piece of bread, not because you are hungry, though you are starving, but because your hands have...
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