The Wistful Ashes

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 14:12:18 -

The Wistful Ashes

The glass was cold. It sat on the marble table. A tumbler. Simple. Clear. I held it. The rim bit into my thumb. The room was white. Not the white of snow. Snow is soft. Snow dies. This was hard. Sterile. The lights hummed. A low buzz. Like a bee trapped in a wall. I looked up. The ceiling was high. I was small. My brother sat across from me. His name was Julian. He wore a suit. Navy blue. No...

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