The Wistful Dinner
The rain did not fall so much as it leaked from the sky, a persistent, gray weep that soaked into the wool of your greatcoat and chilled the bone beneath. You stood at the edge of the treeline, where the familiar, jagged pines of the Appalachian foothills gave way to a silence that was not empty but full. It was a fullness that pressed against your eardrums, a hum that vibrated in the teeth....
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