The Distant Affair
The champagne was warm, a mistake of logistics rather than taste, and it sloshed against the rim of my glass as I watched the dust motes dance in the shaft of afternoon light that pierced the high, soot-stained windows of the University Hall. It was a banquet for the centennial of the Department of Antiquities, a celebration that smelled of lavender sachets, old paper, and the metallic tang of...
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