The Faded Ruin

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 17:07:20 -

The Faded Ruin

The bus smelled of wet wool and old rain. I sat by the window. The glass was cold against my cheek. Outside, the gray sky pressed down on the city. It was a heavy, low ceiling. We were going to the Center. I was not going to the Center. I was going to my life. Or what was left of it. I looked at my hands. They were shaking. Not much. Just a tremor. A small vibration in the bones. I wore the...

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