The Wistful Letter
The feast had been a catastrophe of light and sound, a blinding eruption of candle wax and roasted boar that had consumed the great hall of the ancestral home until the very air seemed to vibrate with the frantic, drunken energy of the living, yet as the last of the revelers stumbled out into the cold, star-choked night, I remained seated at the head of the long table, my hands trembling not...
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