The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 14:28:56 -

The glass did not break. It breathed. Margaret stood in the center of the atrium. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and old paper. She held a silver fork in her right hand. Her knuckles were white. The chandelier above was not glass. It was a swarm of moths. They circled in a slow, hypnotic spiral. Their wings beat against the silence. The sound was like rain on a tin roof. She looked...

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