The Faded Frequency
The letter is yellowed. The ink is brown. You are old. You sit in the chair by the window. The rain hits the glass. It sounds like static. It sounds like memory. You hold the envelope. Your hands shake. They always shake now. You press your thumb against the seal. It is wax. It is red. It is gone. You are Margaret. You are a scholar. You have spent forty years in this house. The house is old....
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen