The Wistful Asylum

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 05:57:49 -

The can was dented. Not crushed, just dented. A shallow, silver bruise on the side. Margaret held it up to the light of the break room, turning it slowly. The light caught the ridge of the dent and threw a small, sharp shadow across the linoleum. "Margaret." She didn’t look up. The voice was thin. It came from the doorway. She recognized the cadence. It was the voice of the building. Or rather,...

0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews