The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-18 23:00:07 -

The air in the auction hall smelled of stale lavender and expensive desperation, a cloying perfume that seemed to hang in the dust motes dancing in the shafts of afternoon light. I stood at the back of the room, my fingers white-knuckled around the wooden armrest of my chair, watching the gavel fall on a collection of Victorian silver that did nothing to alleviate the hollow ache in my chest....

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