The Wistful Dinner
The pen hovers over the heavy, cream-colored paper, the nib trembling not from the cold that seeps through the floorboards of Oakhaven Hall, but from the sheer, suffocating weight of the ink waiting to be spilled, while you, Elias Thorne, stand at the head of the table with your hand clenched around the back of your chair, the wood digging into your palm as a bruise already forming, watching...
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