The Faded Photograph
The air in the Grand Hall of the Sterling Institute was thick, not with the perfumes of the aristocrats or the stale tobacco of the donors, but with the heavy, suffocating weight of expectation, a tangible mist that clung to the velvet drapes and settled into the pores of the skin, making it difficult to breathe, difficult to think, difficult to be anything other than what they wanted you to...
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