The Distant Wound
The glass was on the table. It was a tumbler, thick and heavy, the kind they used in the old days. It sat in the center of the steel slab. The light from the ceiling fluorescents hummed. It buzzed low and constant. Elias stared at it. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t stop them. He pressed them flat against his thighs. The denim of his jeans was worn thin. The fabric stretched over his...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen