The Pale Meridian
You wear the coat. It is old. The wool is thin. You feel the cold. It seeps in. It finds the gaps. You are on the train. The wheels click. Click. Click. A rhythm. A heartbeat. Not yours. It is the engine’s. It is the machine’s. You look down. The buttons are loose. One hangs by a thread. You do not pull it. You do not fix it. You let it dangle. It swings. In and out. Like a pendulum. Like a...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen