The Pale Shadows
The hall is loud. It is too loud. The chandeliers hang low, heavy with crystal that cuts the gaslight into sharp, bright shards. You are standing near the pillar. Your coat is too warm. You sweat. The air smells of lilies and old money. Margaret is across the room. She is laughing. Her head is thrown back. Her neck is white in the dim light. You watch her throat move. It is a small, private...
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