The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-19 08:41:28 -

The candle on the table flickered, a small, nervous flame in the heavy air of the stone room. It was a room with no windows, only a door that was barred from the outside. The stone was cold. It bit through the thin wool of Margaret’s dress. She sat at the oak table, her hands folded in her lap. They were trembling. Not from fear. From the effort of keeping them still. Across from her sat the...

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