The Faded Dust

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 19:06:29 -

The Faded Dust

The frost cracked the window glass. A spiderweb of ice. I watched it spread. It ate the view. I am dying. Or I am leaving. The words are the same. My lungs burn. The air is thin here. Too thin for a man who has carried the weight of the world in his chest for thirty years. I left the house in 1948. I am returning in 1974. The house is old. The wood is dry. It wants to burn. I do not want to...

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