The Wistful Show

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 12:18:23 -

The Wistful Show

The dream was always the same. I was standing in a field of glass. Not sand, not grass, but millions of tiny, sharp shards of mirror, glittering under a sun that had no heat. I was barefoot. The pain was bright and immediate, a white fire in my toes, but I did not cry out. I just stood there, holding a bucket of water. My wife, Elias, was standing at the edge of the field, looking at me with an...

0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews