The Distant Joke
The banquet hall of St. Jude’s Community Center smelled of wet wool, stale beer, and the cloying sweetness of artificial cherry punch. It was a feast, or rather, a simulation of one, held in the basement of a crumbling brick church on the edge of Oakhaven. The lights were dim, buzzing with a low, electric hum that seemed to vibrate in the teeth. In the center of the room, surrounded by folding...
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