The Distant Summer
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended veil of grey mist that turned the world outside the window into a watercolor left out in the damp. Inside the study, the air was thick with the scent of old paper, beeswax, and the faint, metallic tang of fever that had begun to settle into my bones. I sat before the desk, a landscape of leather-bound volumes and scattered manuscripts, my...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 34 Views 0 previzualizare