The Pale Altar

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-20 06:13:14 -

The Pale Altar

The kettle was boiling. It sang a high, thin note that cut through the grey air of the room. I looked at the teacup on the table. It was white. It had a chip in the rim. I had bought it from a stall in the market three days ago. It was cheap. It was mine. "Is it ready?" my brother asked. He stood by the window. The fog was thick outside. The streetlights were on. They looked like pale eyes...

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