The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-25 06:25:36 -

"Thomas. Get your hands off the wall." I pulled my hand back from the plaster. It was damp, sweating a thin film of mold. The basement of the stationhouse smelled of wet stone and old iron, a scent that stuck to the back of my throat. I had been down here for six hours. The light from the single bulb above the door was yellow and sickly, casting my shadow long and distorted against the far...

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