The Wistful Voyage
The key hung on his neck. It was heavy. A brass weight against the sternum. It did not jingle. It only pulled. Down. Into the chest. Thomas looked at it. He turned it over. The teeth were worn smooth. The bow was flat. It had seen many doors. Or perhaps only one. He did not know. He held the key in his palm. It was warm. His own heat. "Is it heavy?" The voice came from the shadows. Margaret...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 10 Views 0 önizleme