The Distant Summer
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, grey curtain that turned the mud of the front yard into a slick, sucking mirror of the overcast sky, and in that relentless dampness, Arthur Pendelton stood by the open window of the study, his hand resting on the cold brass latch, feeling the chill seep into the knuckles that were swollen and stiff from the arthritis that had begun to...
0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 1 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр