The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 21:42:12 -

The hall smelled of rotting wine and wet wool. We had eaten. We had drunk. The candles guttered in the drafty air, throwing long, shaky shadows against the stone walls. My hands shook. I could not stop them. I looked at Thomas. He sat at the head of the table. He looked small. He looked tired. He did not look like a king. He looked like a man who had forgotten how to breathe. We were supposed...

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