The Wistful Atlas

σε πρόσθεσε στο Literature

2026-08-17 22:26:18 -

The Wistful Atlas

The bread was stale. I knew it before I broke it. It crumbled like dry skin. I held the pieces in my palm. They were gray. They were cold. I was alone in the cellar. The walls wept. Water ran down the stones. It tasted of iron. I looked at the loaves. They were my only food. They were my only comfort. I ate the crumbs. They tasted of ash. I thought of Thomas. He was gone. He had been gone for...

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