The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-18 09:44:54 -

The fire in the hearth did not burn so much as it consumed, a hungry, orange maw that devoured the seasoned oak and spat out sparks like embers of a dying star. We were seated at a long table of dark mahogany, the varnish worn smooth by centuries of hands that had once been powerful, now reduced to the ghosts of memory. The feast was laid out with a precision that bordered on the surgical:...

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