The Wistful Show
The chandelier in the Grand Ballroom of the Whitmore Estate did not hang from the ceiling; it floated, suspended by a tension so fine it was invisible to the naked eye, a constellation of crystal and gold that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic luminescence like a slow, mechanical heartbeat. You stood at the edge of the marble floor, your reflection distorted in the polished surface, a blur of dark...
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