The Wistful Dinner
The table is long. Too long for the room, but you do not mind. The mahogany gleams under the gaslight, a dark river of wood where your family gathers. You are the captain now. The uniform is tight across the shoulders. The collar bites into your throat. It is a good fit. It is the only thing that fits. Margaret sits at the head. She looks small. Her hands are folded in her lap, white and still...
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