The Wistful Throne
The rain hit the glass. It sounded like applause. I watched the droplets race down the pane. They left streaks. They vanished. The room was cold. The room was small. I sat in the corner. I held a cup. The tea was cold. It tasted of dust. It tasted of time. I waited for her. I waited for the door to open. I waited for the light. The light never came. Only the gray. Only the wet. I looked at the...
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