The Distant Journey
The uniform was not merely a garment; it was a skin I had worn for so long that I had forgotten the texture of my own flesh beneath the wool. It was a deep, institutional grey, cut with severe precision, the buttons polished to a dull, metallic sheen that caught the sparse light filtering through the high, arched windows of the Hall. I stood before the full-length mirror in the antechamber of...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews