The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-21 16:54:03 -

The pot boiled. Steam curled, thick and white, against the cold stone of the kitchen. I watched it. The water churned. It looked like a living thing, restless and dark. I had been stirring for three hours. My wrist ached. The spoon was wood, smooth from years of use. It tasted of salt and iron. Lord Vane’s kitchen was a place of echoes. The walls were high, built of grey granite from the hills....

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