The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 11:15:32 -

The table was long. It stretched across the hall like a spine of polished oak, unbroken and pale. Margaret sat at the far end. Her hands were still. They rested on the white cloth, fingers splayed, as if holding down ghosts. The candles burned low. The wax pooled, soft and yellow, dripping over the edges. It smelled of bees and old smoke. Across from her sat no one. The chair was empty. The...

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