The Faded Dust
The rain smells of iron. It falls on the cobblestones of Highgate, turning the grey stone to black glass. You walk. Your shoes are wet. The soles are thin. You feel the cold. You are twelve. You carry a satchel. It is heavy. Inside is a book. It is not a school book. It is a ledger. The pages are yellow. The ink is faded. You are late. The bell has rung. You do not care. You walk faster. The...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen