The Pale Dance
The fever had settled into the marrow of your bones long before the dawn broke over the jagged, wind-scoured peaks of the northern highlands, leaving you with a hollow, metallic taste in your mouth and a trembling that you mistook, in your delirium, for the shivering of a leaf caught in a gale, but which was, in truth, the violent, rhythmic pulsing of your own failing heart, a metronome...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare