The Distant Ghost

أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature

2026-08-20 07:20:52 -

The Distant Ghost

The porridge was gone. That was the first thing I noticed. Not the silence. Not the empty chair. The bowl. It sat on the table, cracked down the middle, the white ceramic split like a dry riverbed. I reached for it. My fingers hovered over the jagged edge. I did not touch it. I am a man of few words. My hands do the talking. They have always spoken louder than my mouth. But today, my hands were...

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