The Golden Scar
The river ran black and thick as oil in the dream, a stagnant vein of the city pulsing beneath the concrete skin of the industrial district where Elias Thorne had spent the better part of his adult life polishing the rough edges of other men’s ambitions until they shone with a deceptive, sterile luster that blinded rather than illuminated. He stood on the bank, his hands submerged to the elbows...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare