The Pale Bonsai
The banquet hall smelled of roasted pheasant and stale sweat, a thick, cloying atmosphere that hung in the air like a heavy curtain refusing to be drawn back, while the chandeliers above flickered with a nervous, electric buzz that seemed to vibrate directly against the temples of the guests who sat in rows of rigid, uncomfortable chairs, their faces illuminated by a light that was too bright...
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