The Distant Affair
The jar sat on the shelf, a squat vessel of dark clay, its surface pitted and rough as old skin. Inside, the paste sat thick and yellow, a substance that smelled of crushed garlic and ancient rain. Elias held it. His fingers, stained with the residue of a thousand such jars, trembled slightly. It was not a trembling of cold. The cellar was warm, thick with the humidity of the earth. It was a...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld