The Faded River
The banquet hall hums with a low, electric thrum. You sit at the far end of the long oak table, your fingers wrapped around a crystal goblet. The ice is melting. It weeps onto the mahogany. You watch the drops gather. They form a small, dark pool. Your eyes are fixed on the chandelier above. It is a structure of glass and brass. It is intricate. It is fragile. It holds the light together....
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