The Wistful Incense

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-20 10:01:30 -

The train hissed. Steam clung to the glass. I pressed my forehead against the cold pane. The fog swallowed the platform. It swallowed the station. It swallowed the city of Ashford, a sprawling beast of iron and soot, breathing out grey exhale. I was tired. Not sleepy. Worn. The kind of tired that settles in the marrow. A quiet rot. My brother sat across from me. Thomas. He did not look at me....

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