The Faded Bouquet
The iron bars of the cell did not rust, a fact that you knew with the sickening certainty of a man who has watched his own blood dry on the stone floor, for here time does not erode but calcifies, turning the air into a solid block of grey silence that presses against your lungs until the act of breathing becomes a violent, rhythmic heaving, a mechanical pump struggling against the weight of a...
0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu