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Prompt: A Victorian drawing room, softly lit by afternoon light. A woman sits upright in an armchair beside a small writing desk, her posture composed but her expression distant and strained, as if absorbing difficult news. In front of her lies a neat stack of letters — some opened, some unopened — their envelopes heavy with seals. One letter rests loosely in her hand, already read. Behind her, a butler stands quietly, offering another sealed envelope on a silver tray, his gaze lowered, his presence formal and restrained. A dead albatross hangs around the woman’s neck. The room is elegant but subdued, a cold fireplace, a clock marking the passage of time—only a window allowing some sunlight and view of rolling hills hints at some element of hope. The mood is calm, dignified, and weighted — the sense of receiving one piece of bad news after another, water color, paint splatter and wet ink, scratchy effect-uneven lines, period costume, historical accuracy
The Albatross isn’t Leaving