The Wistful Dinner
The banquet hall did not exist in any census of the city, nor did it stand upon any map that a cartographer would dare to ink, yet it rose with the stubborn, architectural permanence of a cathedral built from the bones of forgotten centuries, its spires piercing a sky that was not quite the sky but a pale, bruised membrane of industrial twilight that hung low over the soot-stained rooftops of a...
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