The Distant Blade
The knife sat on the steel table, cold and bright, a sliver of silver that did not belong to the room. "Put it down, Elias," said Marcus. His voice was low, scraped raw by the night’s air. He stood by the window, his back to the room, watching the rain lash against the glass of the municipal slaughterhouse. The building was old, a brick skeleton that groaned under the weight of the wind....
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen