The Pale Fracture

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 01:04:47 -

The Pale Fracture

The rain fell like needles. I felt each one pierce the skin of my arm. I did not flinch. I was a gardener. I tended the moss. The moss was my life. It grew in the cracks of the city. It was green and soft. It was me. I walked to the central plaza. The air smelled of rust and ozone. People moved around me. They wore gray coats. Their faces were blank. They looked at their feet. They did not look...

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