The Distant Temple
The train rattled through the gray morning, a skeletal beast dragging its heavy load toward the provincial capital, and Margaret sat in the window seat, her hands folded in her lap like a bird that had forgotten how to fly. She was watching the trees blur past, thin and leafless, their branches scratching at the glass with a desperate, silent urgency. Inside the cabin, the air smelled of stale...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior