The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 06:18:06 -

In the dream, the fog was not a thing of water but of memory, thick and gray, pressing against the windows of the house like a living skin. It whispered against the glass with a sound like dry leaves skittering over a grave. Inside, the air was still, heavy with the scent of beeswax and old paper, a stillness that felt less like peace and more like the held breath before a verdict. Captain...

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