The Pale Path
The boundary line was not drawn in ink, but in the absence of light. It stood between the two halves of the room like a wall of fog, a vertical slice of silence that cut through the air where the dust motes refused to drift. I stood on the side where the shadows were deep and cool, watching the other side where the illumination was so harsh it felt like a physical weight, pressing against the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews