The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 23:07:39 -

The air in the study was thick with the smell of old paper and wet wool. I sat in the chair by the window. Rain tapped against the glass. It was a steady, grey rhythm. Outside, the trees were bare. They looked like broken bones against the sky. My hands were shaking. I held them still on my lap. I was a fighter. I had been one for forty years. I knew how to take a hit. I knew how to breathe...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews