The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-24 13:43:13 -

The silver comb lay in Arthur’s palm, the teeth worn smooth as river stones, the metal tarnished black in the grooves where his sister’s fingers had once rested. He held it against the rough wool of his coat sleeve, feeling the cold bite of the metal, a small, solid anchor in a world that felt increasingly untethered. Outside the window of the hotel room in Leeds, the sky was the color of wet...

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