The Wistful Dinner
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a heavy, gray curtain drawn across the windowpane of the Senate dining room, blurring the city lights into indistinct smears of amber and white. Margaret Holloway sat at the head of the long mahogany table, her hands folded neatly in her lap, the silver rings on her fingers catching the dim light of the chandelier. She was a scholar of...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 3 Views 0 Anteprima