The Faded Masquerade
The ice breaks. It happens slowly at first. A thin line. White. Sharp against the blue. You are sitting on the edge. Your legs dangle. They do not touch the water. You are seven. You are cold. The air is dry. It cuts your lungs. You breathe in. You breathe out. Your breath fogs. It hangs there. It fades. You watch the crack. It widens. It splits. The lake is a mirror. It reflects the sky. The...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima