The Golden Visit
The feast was laid out on the long oak table, the wood so dark and polished it looked like a mirror for the souls of the dead, and the candles, tallow and dripping, cast a light that was less illumination and more a kind of thick, golden fog that settled into the cracks of the floorboards and the wrinkles of the faces of those who sat around the table, waiting for the moment when the silence...
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