Tom Rimshot Dimly lit corners in an ornately decorated but empty dining room. Thick reams of curtains block off the windows, and the last strains of purple sunset bleed through the edges of the cloth. A glass ashtray sits on a white table, lined with gold floral adornments - a half-smoked cigarette still smoldering in it. The slow lines of grey billow up in the darkness and disappear into a black ceiling that may as well be the abyssal void of space.
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