The Golden Echoes
The truck tires crunch over the gravel of the drive, a sound like dry bones breaking underfoot, and you stop the engine, letting the idle hum settle into the silence of the house that has waited for you for three years. You are back, not with a medal, but with a silence so heavy it has its own gravity, a silence that smells of antiseptic and old dust. You step out into the cold air of the North...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews