The Golden Cellar
The rain did not fall so much as it seeped, a grey, omnipresent mist that clung to the cobblestones of the old city, turning the air into a thick, breathing substance that tasted of iron and wet stone. Thomas stood alone in the center of the square, his back rigid against the chill, watching the water pool around his polished boots. He was a man who had spent his life in the architecture of...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima