The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-20 04:57:53 -

The fire in the hearth had burned down to a bed of grey ash, yet the heat remained in the room, a heavy, suffocating blanket that pressed against our skin. We sat at the long oak table, the one my father had commissioned from the local carpenter forty years ago, and the wood looked darker now, swollen with the damp of the autumn night. Eleanor sat across from me, her hands folded in her lap,...

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