The Wistful Grid

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-20 17:23:15 -

The Wistful Grid

14 October. Rain falls. It hits the window. The glass shakes. I am cold. The coat is cold. It is my skin now. I feel the threadbare wool against my cheek. It scratches. It remembers. I am a soldier. I am in a box. The box is small. The walls are gray. The air is stale. It smells of damp and rust. I sit on the floor. My back is against the door. I hold the coat. It is heavy. It is light. It is...

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