The Wistful Witness

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-17 13:11:36 -

The coffee was cold. It tasted like rust and regret. "You can’t stay here, Arthur." I looked up. Margaret stood in the doorway. Her coat was wet. Rain ran down her chin. She held a small, brass compass in her hand. It was tarnished. Old. Mine. "I’m packing," she said. Her voice was flat. No anger. Just fact. I stared at the compass. It sat on the table between us. The needle spun. Then it...

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