The Wistful Dinner
The hall smelled of roasted pheasant and wet wool. Outside, the rain lashed against the high windows of the old estate, a relentless gray curtain that blurred the world beyond the glass. Inside, the chandeliers burned bright, casting long, dancing shadows across the polished floor. It was a feast. The table was long, carved from oak that had seen three centuries of service, and it groaned under...
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