The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-23 23:27:02 -

The dampness of the cell did not merely settle on Silas Vane’s skin; it inhabited him. He sat on the cold stone floor, his hands folded in his lap, watching the shadow that lay stretched out before him. It was a long, dark shape, detached from his body by an inch, moving with a lagging, deliberate slowness that defied the physics of the gaslight above. Silas was thirty-two years old, a...

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