The Distant Metropolis
The house is breathing. You can feel it in the creak of the floorboards under your bare feet, a slow, rhythmic expansion of timber and stone that sounds suspiciously like a sigh. It is a large house, too large for just the two of you, and the dust motes dancing in the shafts of grey light seem to be suspended in time, waiting for something to happen. Your father is sitting in the corner, his...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 3 Views 0 voorbeeld