The Wistful Show
The champagne flute trembled in Elias Thorne’s grip, the liquid inside sloshing against the rim with a rhythm that matched the frantic hammering of his heart. He stood at the edge of the ballroom, a forty-year-old border warden in a suit that had been tailored for a man five pounds heavier, watching the crowd swirl beneath the chandelier like oil on water. The air was thick with the scent of...
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