The Golden Harbor
I woke with the taste of iron on my tongue. The air in the study was thick, stale with the scent of old paper and damp wool. Outside, the rain hammered against the leaded glass, a relentless drumming that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and into my bones. I was a man of letters, a scholar of the obscure, trapped now in the gilded cage of Lord Ashworth’s estate. Poverty had been my...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima