The Wistful Show

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 03:40:11 -

The Wistful Show

The bread was still warm. I held it in my palms, the heat seeping into the calluses of my hands, a familiar comfort. It was a simple loaf. Rye and wheat. No glaze. No sugar. Just the dense, dark earth of the grain. I tore a piece. The crust snapped. A clean fracture. The crumb inside was soft, yielding. I put it in my mouth. I chewed. It tasted of salt and time. I sat at the table. The wood was...

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