The Golden Oath
You have been holding your tongue in your mouth for so long that it has become a foreign object, a heavy, wet stone of silence that you are terrified to spit out because you know that if you do, the taste of it will be iron and ash, and the air around you will curdle into something solid and gray. It is a Tuesday in the city, a Tuesday that smells of wet pavement and the metallic tang of ozone...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare