The Pale Exile

σε πρόσθεσε στο Literature

2026-08-19 08:18:00 -

The Pale Exile

The hall smelled of roasted goose and stale sweat. It smelled of fifty years of Sunday dinners. You stood by the buffet, holding a plate that felt too heavy in your hands. The crystal glasses caught the light. They were cold. They were perfect. They were not yours. You looked at your hands. They were red. The knuckles were swollen. The skin was thick and rough. You had been scrubbing the floor....

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