The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 13:48:18 -

The Pale Dance

The rain did not fall. It hammered. It struck the iron roofs of the mill like a thousand small fists. You stood at the window. Your back was to the room. The glass was cold against your cheek. You did not move. You were the stone. You were the wall. The water ran in sheets. It blurred the world outside. The world inside was silent. The coat was on the chair. It was black wool. It was cut high....

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews