The Wistful Show

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2026-08-20 11:01:31 -

The Wistful Show

The rain did not fall; it hovered, a gray mist that clung to the windows of the Appraisal Institute like a veil over a face I no longer wished to see. I stood in the center of the Grand Hall, the smell of wet wool and old paper thick in my throat, and watched the door swing shut behind me. It was the end of the season, the final day of the auction, and I was leaving. Not with a bang, not with a...

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