The Distant Joke
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old industrial quarter into a slick, black mirror reflecting the sickly glow of the gas lamps. I sat in the corner of the interrogation room, my hands clasped tightly around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold, the ceramic handle chipped where I had held it too hard. The room was...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima