The Faded Shield
The departure was not marked by tears or grand gestures, but by the quiet, systematic dismantling of the world I had known, a process that began with the packing of boxes and ended with the sealing of the doors of the Whitehall Estate, a sprawling decrescendo of Victorian dignity that now stood hollow and echoing in the damp November air, where the ivy had turned to black lace against the stone...
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