The Faded Dust

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-20 17:24:53 -

The Faded Dust

The bread was stale. Not merely dry, but brittle, a hard shell of flour and time that crumbled at the touch of a single fingernail. I held the loaf in my hands, the weight of it negligible, the texture rough against my palms. We had been walking for three days, the rain a constant, cold sheet that soaked through my wool cloak and settled deep in the bones. The village of Oakhaven was a smear of...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima