⊰ Marcel ⊱
I eye the golden-brown liquid as I set the half-empty decanter down on the coffee table, hearing it clink against the glass surface. With the round stopper, I secure it atop the decanter before turning to face the room with a half-full glass in my hand.
The dim light casting down from the parlor’s chandelier casts shadows that seem to cling to the edges, and it feels as though it’s suffocating me as my gaze lands on Catalina who sits across from me, her presence as commanding as ever. With the burden of the imminent conversation weighing on my mind, I’ve prepared myself, knowing there’s too much at risk if it doesn’t go as planned.
With each step I take toward the leather armchair I often find comfort in, the glass in my hand feels heavier than usual. I lower myself to the
