The Wistful Ashes
The coat is gone. You do not remember taking it off, yet your arms are bare, cold against the humid air of the Hall, and the heavy wool garment that held your identity for forty years is nowhere to be seen. It is not in the coatroom. It is not draped over the chair of the Councilor who sat beside you. It has simply ceased to exist, transformed into something else, something you cannot name but...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen