The Distant Temple
The rain didn’t fall. It hovered. A grey, static mist that clung to the windowpanes of the third-floor accounting office like a wet wool blanket. I watched a droplet trace a slow, trembling path down the glass. It stopped. Held its breath. Then slid, just an inch, before freezing again. "Hey, Dave. You’re staring at the wall again." It was Sarah. She was chewing gum with the rhythmic,...
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