The Wistful Dinner
The train hisses against the tracks, a long, shuddering exhale that seems to drain the very air from the station, and you stand on the platform with your suitcase in hand, feeling the weight of it not in your arms but in the hollow space behind your ribs. It is a gray afternoon, the kind where the light comes down in thin, translucent sheets, obscuring the sharp edges of the city and turning...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima