The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 12:16:57 -

The Distant Joke

The rain hit the asphalt in sheets. Cold. Thin. It ran down my face. I did not wipe it away. I sat on the curb. My back was against the brick wall. The alley smelled of wet paper and old grease. A single streetlamp buzzed above. It flickered. Orange light. It painted the puddles. I held the object in my hands. It was a small, leather-bound notebook. The cover was scuffed. The corners were worn...

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