The Wistful Crossroads

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 18:20:56 -

The rain hit the glass. It drummed a dull, wet rhythm against the windowpane. Margaret sat in the corner. Her hands were still. They rested on the armrests of the chair. The leather was cracked. It smelled of dust and old paper. She watched the water streak down. The view outside was a blur of gray. The office was quiet. Too quiet. The clock on the wall ticked. Tick. Tick. Tick. It sounded like...

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