The Faded Chronicle
The champagne flutes in the crystal bowl are filled to the brim, trembling with a faint, seismic vibration that seems to originate not from the music drifting out of the atrium, but from the very foundation of the house, a subtle tremor that you feel in your teeth before you see it in the liquid, and you stand there, holding your glass with a grip that is perhaps too tight, perhaps too loose,...
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