The Golden Cellar
You stand in the middle of the mess hall, the air thick and suffocating, heavy with the scent of burnt toast and stale beer and the metallic tang of fear that has seeped into the very plaster walls, and you watch the other men tear into their food with a ferocity that is almost sexual, their jaws working in rhythmic, desperate chews, their eyes fixed on their plates as if the bread and the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews