The Distant Crown
The rain had not stopped for three days. It fell in a grey, relentless curtain against the windows of the St. Jude’s Orphanage, blurring the city into a smear of charcoal and steel. I stood by the window, my hands clasped behind my back, watching the water race down the glass in frantic, silver threads. The air in the room was thick, smelling of wet wool, old paper, and the faint, metallic tang...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare