The Distant Affair
The train cut through the gray morning like a scalpel. Dr. Elias Thorne pressed his forehead against the cold glass. Outside, the landscape was a blur of wet pine and mud. He was a man of architecture, specifically of the decay within it. His hands, resting on his knees, trembled slightly. Not from cold. From the weight of what he carried in his mind. A dossier. A set of photographs. A truth...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση