The Faded Road
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray weeping that turned the cobblestones of the lane into slick mirrors reflecting the low, brooding sky. Margaret stood by the window of the master bedroom, her fingers tracing the condensation that had gathered on the glass, a thin line of her own isolation drawn in water. The house, Old Manse Hall, was large and old, its bones settling...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 3 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση