The Golden Song
The van hummed, a low, constant vibration that traveled up through the soles of Elias’s shoes and settled in his teeth. It was a sound of confinement, a mechanical throat that never stopped swallowing the miles. Outside, the autumn woods of the Pacific Northwest blurred into a smear of rust and amber, but inside, the air was still and smelled of stale coffee and the metallic tang of fear. Elias...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior