The Distant Blade
The train did not merely arrive; it exhaled into the station, a long, shuddering breath of steam and diesel that tasted of iron and old rain, and I stepped off onto the platform of Oakhaven with the heavy, wet silence of a thing that has been buried for a long time. It is difficult to explain to those who have never been one of us, the specific weight of being a creature of the margins, a...
0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة