The Distant Affair
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the King’s Walk into a slick, reflective black mirror that mirrored the grey, indifferent sky above, and in this damp, oppressive silence, the air smelled of wet wool, old paper, and the faint, metallic tang of ozone that always preceded a storm in the old part of the city, a scent that clung to the clothes of those who dared...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior