The Golden Echoes
The rain hit the windshield like static. Elias tapped the glass. A single, sharp sound. He looked at his hands. They were shaking. Not from the cold. The heater was on full. The cabin smelled of wet wool and old coffee. His mother’s voice was in his ear. A recording. He had played it three times on the drive. *Stop it, Elias. You’re breaking the seal.* He did not stop. He pressed his thumb into...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld