The Wistful Dinner
Una Rattray was twelve years old and she had not eaten since the morning the harvest failed, a fact that made her hands tremble not from cold, but from the hollow ache of a body running on fumes. She stood on the bridge of the Vanguard, a steam-driven ferry that looked less like a vessel of commerce and more like a rusted cage floating on the grey waters of the North Sea, clutching a rusted...
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