The Wistful Asylum

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2026-08-19 05:20:12 -

The spoon hit the ceramic. *Clack.* Margaret wiped her mouth. The bread was stale. Dry. Like dust in a dead house. She chewed. Swallowed. The taste was nothing. Outside, the rain lashed the window. *Tap. Tap. Tap.* Across the table, Thomas sat. He didn't eat. He stared at the plate. His eyes were wide. White. Shining. He looked at the bread. He looked at the water. He looked at her. "You're...

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