The Distant Affair

agregó una foto Literature

2026-08-19 05:10:25 -

The air tasted of iron. And wet wool. We stood in the center of the square. The lanterns swayed. A faint, sickly glow. It caught the rim of my service cap. I wore it tight. I needed the pressure. My hands were at my sides. Locked. The crowd was thick. A wall of faces. Some pale. Some red. I knew most of them. Not by name. By scent. By the way they shifted their weight. They waited for me to...

0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 3 Views 0 Vista previa