The Pale Tale

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 13:40:42 -

The Pale Tale

The frost lay thick on the glass. It was a white sheet. It hid the street. It hid the world. I pressed my hand to the pane. Cold. Sharp. A bite of ice. I am here. I am alone. The room is small. The air is still. There is no wind in the house. Only the hum of the walls. I sit in the chair. My back is straight. My hands are still. They are pale. They are mine. I came from a place of rain. A place...

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