The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-20 15:51:58 -

The room smelled of wet wool and the sharp, metallic tang of burnt sugar, a scent that clung to the back of the throat like a bad taste. Margaret sat at the long oak table, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold, the ceramic rough and chipped at the rim. Around her, the other members of the Parish Relief Committee sat in a semi-circle, their faces illuminated by the...

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