The Distant Affair
The air in the Grand Hall of the Ashworth Manor was so thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and burning beeswax that it felt less like an atmosphere and more like a physical substance, a heavy, golden syrup that coated the lungs and the skin, binding the living to the dead in a single, suffocating embrace as I stood at the edge of the dining table, watching the candlelight tremble against...
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