The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 09:56:34 -

The Distant Wound

The banquet hall smells of roasted pork and stale sweat. You are there. You are not supposed to be there. The table is long. It stretches into the dark. The candles are tall. They burn low. The wax drips like blood. You wear a coat. It is old. The wool is thin. The elbows are patched. You do not care. You care about the watch. No. Not the watch. The scarf. It is blue. It is silk. It was your...

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