The Wistful Ashes

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 03:35:48 -

The Wistful Ashes

The coat hung on the rack. It was blue. Faded. Worn. Thomas looked at it. He did not touch it. The air in the room was cold. It smelled of dust. And old paper. He was a man of order. Of law. Of state. But the state was changing. The state was hungry. He had seen the hunger. It had eyes. Cold eyes. Like stones. Like ice. He turned away. His back ached. A dull pain. Deep in the bone. The sickness...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews