The Distant Summer

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2026-08-20 10:28:09 -

The feast is a roar. It is a wall of sound. You are behind it. You are invisible. You stand by the ice bucket. Your fingers are cold. The glass is cold. The room is hot. It is too hot. The air is thick with perfume and sweat. It smells of expensive wine. It smells of lies. You hold the shawl. It is blue. It is silk. It is yours. It was your mother’s. It was her mother’s. It is heavy with dust...

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