The Pale Shadows
The ring is gone. You remember the weight of it. Cold iron against your thumb. It was a wedding band. Simple. Dull. It sat in the slot of your glove where it had been for twenty years. Now the slot is empty. The leather is stretched. The shape remains. A ghost of metal. You are in the hall. It is not a hall. It is a dream. Or a memory of a dream. The floor is black stone. Wet. It smells of rain...
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