The Golden Visit
The room smelled of stale lavender and the metallic tang of old blood, a scent that had permeated the wallpaper, the heavy velvet drapes, and the very bones of the house, settling into the porous skin of the furniture where it sat like a second, invisible coat. You remember the party, or what you believed was a party, as a blur of gold-leafed invitations and the clinking of crystal glasses that...
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