The Pale Bonsai
The fire started at the foundation, a slow, hungry orange that licked at the baseboards before swallowing the living room whole. You stood in the kitchen, holding a ceramic bowl of broth that was still steaming, the heat of it pressing against your palms like a second skin. The smoke did not rise. It pooled. It settled into the corners of the room, thick and gray, tasting of sulfur and burnt...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 5 Visualizações 0 Anterior