The Wistful Atlas

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 16:07:37 -

The Wistful Atlas

I woke with the taste of iron in my mouth. It was a cold, metallic tang that clung to the back of my throat, persistent as rust. I was lying on the floor of the supply depot, the concrete hard against my cheek. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of light that cut through the boarded window. My left hand was gone. Not severed. Not broken. It had simply ceased to be part of the geometry of my...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews