The Faded Attic
The rain did not fall. It stood. A grey curtain. A wall of water. We rode through it. The horses screamed. "Look," I said. I looked. The road was gone. The world was gone. Only the mud. And the horse. And the coat. I was a sergeant. I was old. My knees were stone. I could not feel my hands. I was dying. I knew it. The time was done. I had fought the years. I had won. And now I lost. The horse...
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