The Wistful Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 07:47:48 -

The hall smelled of dust and old wine. We were at the harvest, but it felt like a funeral for the year. My brother, Thomas, stood by the door. He looked thin. Too thin. The light caught his eyes. They were wet. I did not know why. I held my glass. The red liquid sloshed. I looked at the floor. The wood was dark. Old oak. I knew every knot in it. I grew up here. I came back. I always come back....

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