The Distant Promise

agregó una foto Literature

2026-08-18 16:43:48 -

The fog rolled in from the moors before the sun had fully cleared the ridge, a thick, grey wool that smelled of wet rot and ancient stone. I stood at the edge of the cliff path, my boots sinking slightly into the soft earth, watching the mist swallow the world. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; time had begun to lose its linear grip on me weeks ago, stretching and thinning like taffy...

0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 1 Views 0 Vista previa