The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 19:25:04 -

The rain on the slate roof was a rhythmic, percussive thing, a drumbeat that seemed to keep time with the slow, grinding machinery of the night. I sat in the corner of the tavern, the wood of the chair worn smooth by decades of anxious hands, and watched the steam rise from my untouched cup of tea. The air smelled of wet wool, stale beer, and the metallic tang of the damp earth outside. It was...

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