The Wistful Dinner
What does it cost to be the vessel for another’s breath? Eulalie Landry stood before the copper still, the glass beaker sweating in her palm, watching the liquid swirl with a viscosity that defied the laws of chemistry. The light in the cramped laboratory was the color of old bruises, casting long shadows over the workbench where the salt marsh air seeped through the cracks, carrying the...
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