The Wistful Letter

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-20 08:40:43 -

"You're late." The voice was thin. It cut through the fog that clung to the windows of the old manor like a wet shroud. I stood on the porch, shivering. The iron gate groaned behind me. It was a sound of old pain. Of rust and regret. I had walked six miles. My boots were soaked. The rain had not stopped since dawn. It never stopped in this valley. Not in autumn. Not in winter. It seemed to fall...

0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme