The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 13:09:46 -

The dream was always the same: a long table of polished oak, stretching into a mist that smelled of ozone and old paper. At the head sat a figure in a uniform so dark it seemed to absorb the light, his face a void where features should be. Thomas Bradshaw woke with the taste of copper in his mouth, the phantom weight of a silver spoon in his hand. He sat up in the narrow bed of his office, the...

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