The Golden Visit
The train groaned against the iron tracks, a long, metallic exhale that seemed to pull the very life out of the grey afternoon air as it hurtled through the industrial sprawl of the North, carrying me away from the sterile, white silence of the sanatorium and into the raw, unfiltered chaos of the world I had once helped to poison. I was not a man who believed in ghosts or the metaphysical...
0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews