The Pale Echo

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 04:55:35 -

The Pale Echo

The soup was cold. It sat in the silver tureen on the center of the long mahogany table, a grey, opaque pool that reflected the chandelier above in a fractured, trembling way. I stared at it, at the way the broth had separated, the oil rising to the surface in slick, iridescent rings, and I felt a strange, hollow pressure behind my eyes. The room was vast, echoing with the silence of a place...

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