The Distant Summer
The rain on the pavement sounded like static, a low, ceaseless hum that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones. I stood at the edge of the intersection, the collar of my uniform high against the chill, watching the yellow cabs slide through the wet asphalt like oily fish. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; time had lost its rigid architecture somewhere in the last few weeks,...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 8 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen