The Distant Joke
The rain in Harrowgate did not so much fall as it suspended itself, a thick, grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world until the cobblestones beneath Elara’s boots seemed to dissolve into the wet mud of the street, erasing the boundary between the solid ground and the endless, churning sky. She walked with the heavy, deliberate gait of a woman who carried within her chest a stone so...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 3 Visualizações 0 Anterior