The Wistful Grid

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 03:28:53 -

The Wistful Grid

The iron railing on the balcony was cold. It bit into my palm, a sharp, metallic taste that seemed to seep into the bone. Below, the city of Ashworth moved in a gray slurry of steam and soot. The factories breathed their black lungs into the sky. I watched the smoke curl and dissolve. I am not a man of many words. I am a creature of habit and shadow. For forty years, I have stood in this corner...

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