The Golden Downtown
The fire did not consume the house; it unmade it. It peeled the layers of shingles like skin from bone, and the roof collapsed inward with a groan that sounded less like timber breaking and more like a long, stifled scream. You stood in the yard, the ash falling on your shoulders like a fine, gray snow, and watched the structure of your life curl into black ribbons in the heat. You were a...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen