The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 10:10:57 -

The rain did not fall. It was driven. Horizontal shards of ice against the glass of the hansom cab, blurring the gaslights of London into weeping smears of amber and grey. I pressed my forehead to the cold pane. My breath fogged the view. The driver, a man named Silas, did not look back. His shoulders hunched high, a fortress against the wind. We were moving through the industrial throat of the...

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