The Distant Affair

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 01:22:51 -

The wind strips the bark from the oaks. You are the forest. You are the rot. You are the green pulse in the leaf. You walk the highway. The asphalt is cold. It bites. Your feet do not bleed. You do not know why. Margaret is in the car. She sleeps. Her face is pale. It is the face of a saint in a cheap icon. She holds your hand. Her grip is tight. She is afraid. You are not. You are stone. You...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews