The Wistful Atlas

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 00:50:56 -

The Wistful Atlas

The rain falls in silver needles. It hits the slate roof of the tower. *Tick. Tick. Tick.* A rhythm. A heartbeat. Not yours. You are alone. You have been alone for a hundred years. Or perhaps a day. Time is a pool. You are the stone dropped into it. The ripples fade. The water settles. You remain. The tower is old. The stones are cold. They breathe. Do you feel it? A slow exhalation. The air...

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