The Faded Quadrant

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 17:37:10 -

The rain hits the tin roof. It sounds like static. Like dead air. You are wet. You are cold. The mud sucks at your boots. It pulls. It wants to keep you. You pull away. You leave a mark. A dark smear. You look down. You see your own face in a puddle. It is not your face. It is a stranger’s face. Pale. Thin. Hungry. You hold the jar. It is heavy. It is glass. It is filled with porridge. Oats....

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews