The Faded Bouquet
The chandeliers in the Great Hall were made of bone, polished until they gleamed with a wet, milky luminosity that seemed to pulse in time with the low, thrumming heartbeat of the orchestra playing in the corner. You stood at the edge of the marble floor, your dress a heavy thing of black silk, stiff with the weight of decades of accumulated silence, and you watched the guests move through the...
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