The Wistful Dinner
The steam rising from the tureen of mutton broth curls around the rim of the porcelain bowl, a thin, grey ribbon that dissolves into the heavy, coal-scented air of the kitchen, and you watch it with an intensity that borders on the obsessive, your fingers drumming a silent, frantic rhythm against the wooden table, your eyes fixed on the condensation that gathers on the windowpane, forming beads...
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