The Wistful Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 11:28:08 -

The train hissed into the station like a dying snake, spitting steam that smelled of coal dust and wet iron. I stepped onto the platform, my boots heavy with the mud of the Blackwood district, and looked at the clock. It was 4:12 PM. I was late. The air in Millhaven was thick, a physical weight that pressed against the chest, smelling of sulfur from the mills and the rot of the river mud. I...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews