The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 20:43:51 -

I woke up wet. Not just damp. Soaked. The kind of wet that gets into the wool of your socks and the lining of your coat. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know how long I had been asleep. But I knew I was holding something. I looked down. It was a glove. Left hand. Dark blue wool. Faded at the thumb. The stitching was loose near the wrist. It looked old. It looked used. It looked like mine. I...

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