The Faded Quadrant

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-20 09:38:29 -

The wind off the reservoir was cold, a wet, gray thing that seemed to have weight. It pushed against my chest, against the heavy wool of my coat, a physical presence that I had to fight against with every step. I was walking. I had to walk. The path was narrow, a ribbon of packed dirt and gravel winding through the scrubby hills that bordered the old estate. Behind me, the town of Oakhaven was...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima