The Faded Masquerade
The chandelier burns. It is a forest of light. Crystal and brass. You sit. You eat. The knife cuts the meat. It is red. It is wet. You are a scholar. You have a title. You have a degree. You have a name. It is James Whitmore. It is a good name. It is a heavy name. You do not speak. You listen. The air is thick. It smells of wax and old wood. It smells of fear. There is a table. There are many...
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