The Wistful Dinner
The table is long enough to seat forty, and it is set with crystal that catches the low, amber light of the chandeliers above. You are not here. You know this, yet the chair beside the head of the table is empty, its backrest polished to a dull sheen by years of absence. The room hums with a low, thrumming silence that feels less like quiet and more like the held breath of a storm. Around you,...
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