The Golden Mirror
You taste the chalk dust before you see the chalk. It is in your mouth. It is in your hair. It is the taste of the room, and the room is your father’s study, and the smell of it is not chalk but something older, something that has seeped through the floorboards from the cellar below. You are twelve years old. You are holding a glass of water. The water is clear. It is cold. It is the only thing...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews