The Pale Bonsai

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 14:29:32 -

The Pale Bonsai

The tea was hot. It tasted of iron. I drank. Margaret sat across from me. Her face was a map of wrinkles. She did not blink. The pot was full. The water was clear. It reflected the ceiling. We were in the kitchen. The tiles were white. The light was cold. I poured more. My hand did not shake. I am a clerk. I count things. I do not spill. Margaret’s eyes were gray. Like the sky before rain. She...

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