The Golden Farce

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 21:38:57 -

The Golden Farce

The steam pressed against the glass. Thick. White. Blinding. I watched the train pull away. The wheels ground. The metal shrieked. A sound of tearing. Of loss. Eleanor did not wave. She stood still. A statue in wool. Her face pale. Her eyes hidden behind thick spectacles. She held a small bundle. A grey scarf. Knitted by hand. I looked at the scarf. I touched it. The wool was rough. It smelled...

0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews