The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-23 06:21:48 -

March 12 I counted the empty chairs in the banquet hall, one by one, until the number reached forty-two. The velvet was worn smooth on the arms, the fabric thinning where elbows had rested for decades of annual galas. The smell of stale wine and old perfume hung in the air, a cloying scent that seemed to settle into the pores of the skin. I was thirty-four years old, a senior archivist at the...

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