The Wistful Mountain

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 20:15:38 -

The house smelled of wet wool and dying bees. I stood in the center of the kitchen. The tiles were cold under my bare feet. A single moth beat its wings against the window glass. It was a large moth. Its wings were gray and frayed. It looked like a piece of old paper. I watched it. I did not move. My phone buzzed on the counter. The screen was cracked. I ignored it. The sound was sharp. It cut...

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