The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 02:21:29 -

The soup was cold. It sat in the bowl, a gray stillness. Like a lake after a storm. Elias stared. The steam had long since died. He did not move. His hands were still. Resting on the table. White. Thin. Like twigs. The room was dark. Only the table was lit. A single candle. Flickering. The flame bent. It whispered. It sang a low, sad note. The walls breathed. They expanded. They contracted. The...

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