The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 10:34:24 -

The Pale Mist

The rain is not falling, it is being thrown, a horizontal slap against the wet concrete of the underpass where you stand, shielding your face with a hand that has forgotten how to be human skin. You are wet to the bone, the cold seeping into the marrow of your ancient bones, a chill that has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the fact that you are not quite here, not...

0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews