The Golden Visit
The feast was loud. Too loud. Clinks of silver. Shouts of approval. The smell of roasted lamb, heavy and sweet, hanging thick in the air. I sat at the high table. The wood was cold. My hands were still. My brother sat across from me. He looked thin. His eyes were bright. Too bright. "Raise your cup," Father said. His voice was low. A rumble in the chest. I raised mine. The wine was dark. Like...
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