The Wistful Mountain

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-17 14:00:50 -

The rain fell on the city like a static charge. It was a gray, relentless drizzle that turned the asphalt into a mirror for the streetlights. I walked with my head down. My boots were heavy. They were black leather. I had worn them for three years. They were my armor. They were my identity. I was a fighter. I was a warrior in a concrete jungle. I wore my violence like a coat. It fit me well. It...

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