The Faded Photograph

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 21:19:56 -

The banquet hall smelled of stale wine and polished mahogany, a scent that clung to the back of my throat as I stood among the guests honoring the late Mayor Ashworth. I was thirty-two, a master engraver, and I watched the crowd from the shadows, my hands trembling not from cold, but from the weight of the copper plate in my satchel. The commission was simple: a commemorative portrait for the...

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