The Faded Guest

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 14:33:53 -

The Faded Guest

She dreamed of glass. Not the clear, cold kind. Not the kind that catches the sun in a hotel lobby. This was dark. Murky. It smelled of rust and old tea. It was in her hand. She was holding it. It was heavy. She woke. The room was cold. The coal in the grate was dead. Ash. Only ash. Margaret sat up. The sheets were damp. She looked at her hand. It was empty. But the weight remained. A phantom...

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