The Pale Verdict
You stand in the center of the room. The chandelier buzzes. It is a low, sick sound. You are not supposed to be here. You are not supposed to be anywhere. But you are. The air is thick. It smells of stale perfume and expensive wine. Your hands shake. You hide them in your pockets. The fabric is thin. You can feel the cold seeping in. There are so many people. They wear silk and wool. They talk...
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