The Wistful Grid

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 04:58:18 -

The Wistful Grid

The rain fell in sheets. Gray. Endless. I wiped the lens. Again. The glass was fogged. My breath. Cold air. I am old. My hands shake. Not from cold. From fear. I press my eye to the scope. The street below. Empty. Wet asphalt. Reflecting the neon. Red. Blue. Flickering. I look up. The window opposite. Dark. But there. A figure. Silhouette. Still. Watching me. I lower the scope. Heart pounding....

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