The Wistful Dinner
The server tray cracked. It did not shatter with a dramatic crash, but with a dry, internal sigh, splitting along the grain of the birch veneer. Elias looked down. The fracture ran from the handle to the edge, a jagged white scar in the polished wood. He had carried this tray for eleven years. He had wiped its surface every night with a damp cloth, treating the wood with a reverence that...
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