The Faded Quadrant

agregó una foto Literature

2026-08-19 05:03:01 -

The hall smelled of burnt sugar and old wool. It was the annual harvest ball in Millhaven, a small town clinging to the river bend like a barnacle on a hull. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat and the damp chill of the November evening seeping through the single-pane windows. Thomas Bradshaw stood near the back, near the heavy oak door. He did not dance. He watched. He was a...

0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 2 Views 0 Vista previa