The Wistful Letter
You are standing in the dark of the old library, your hands trembling as you hold the letter, the paper yellowed and brittle like a dried leaf, the ink faded to the color of dried blood, and you can feel the weight of the words pressing against your palms, not the physical weight of the paper but the spiritual gravity of a promise made three hundred years ago, a promise that the air in this...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews