The Wistful Cipher
The wine is red. It is thick. It smells of iron and old earth. You hold the glass. Your fingers are cold. The party is loud. The music is a low hum. A bass line throbs against your chest. You are in the kitchen. You are not supposed to be here. The guests are in the living room. They are laughing. They are drinking. They are looking at him. He is standing by the fireplace. His suit is black. It...
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