The Wistful Dinner
You stand at the center of the long, mahogany table in the dining room of the Ashworth estate, the air thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and the faint, metallic tang of old money, and you feel the weight of the silver service in your hands as if it were a physical anchor dragging you down into the floorboards. The chandelier above is a frozen constellation of crystal, casting a cold,...
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