The Golden Scar
You are sitting in the kitchen. The light is gray. It comes through the glass. It is cold. You do not look up. You are sorting the buttons. They are brass. They are warm. You hold one in your palm. It feels heavy. It feels like a coin. It feels like a key. The house is silent. The walls are thin. They are white. They are painted twice. You can hear the hum. It is the machine. It is outside. It...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 8 Views 0 Anteprima