The Wistful Petal
The velvet collar of my father’s coat hung around my neck like a noose of starlight, heavy with the scent of dust and old lavender, while I stood in the center of the Great Hall of the Unseen, watching the throne dissolve into a mist of silver pollen. It was not a place that existed on any map, a realm where the laws of physics had long since surrendered to the whims of memory, and the air...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen