The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-18 15:04:12 -

The Wistful Ashes

The rain hit the pavement in hard, gray sheets. It sounded like static. Like a radio tuned between stations. Callum stood by the window. He did not move. His hands were at his sides. They were still. They were always still. He held the glass in his left hand. A thick, cold pane. It was a piece of the city. A piece of the old world. The glass was cracked. A spiderweb fracture ran across the...

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