The Distant Wound
The rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a gray, vertical curtain that erased the boundary between the asphalt and the sky, turning the highway into a river of black oil and broken reflections. I drove the truck with my hands loose on the wheel, the engine humming a low, mechanical note that I had long since stopped hearing, my mind occupied instead by the rhythmic thud of the heater vent...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima