The Wistful Show

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2026-08-23 07:53:45 -

The Wistful Show

The magistrate’s gavel struck the wood block, a dry, final sound that cut through the stale air of the courtroom. "Margaret Holloway," he said, his voice flat and devoid of inflection, as if reciting a line from a ledger. "You are in contempt." Margaret stood before the bench, her fingers twisting the heavy velvet of the cloak draped over her shoulders. It was her mother’s cloak, a garment of...

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