The Golden Myth

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2026-08-19 17:21:36 -

The Golden Myth

The banquet was loud. Too loud. The clatter of silver on porcelain sounded like shrapnel. I ate. I drank. My hands trembled. They were white. Knuckles swollen. The joints ached. A dull, grinding pain. Like rust in a hinge. I looked down at them. They looked like old things. Used up. Around me, the room hummed. Voices. Laughter. The scent of roasted duck. Red wine. The air was thick. It pressed...

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