The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-18 18:05:03 -

The banquet hall smelled of roasted pheasant and damp wool. Margaret stood at the edge of the room. She held a silver platter. The candles flickered. The guests were loud. They laughed. They clinked glasses. Margaret did not look at them. She looked at the mirror behind the bar. Her reflection was still. The reflection was not a woman. It was a shadow. It was thin. It was sharp. It had no...

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