The Pale Banner
The rain fell sideways. It slapped against the window of the train, a gray, relentless hand. Thomas sat by the glass. His hands were still. They were the hands of a man who had stopped moving. "Look at it, Tom," said his father. The voice was thin. Like wire. Thomas looked. The landscape outside was a blur of brown and green. It was not the landscape of home. It was not the landscape of...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen