The Pale Bonsai

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 23:33:53 -

The Pale Bonsai

You are alone. The room is white. Not the white of snow, which has texture, grain, memory. Not the white of bone, which holds heat. This is the white of a void. It swallows sound. It drinks light. You sit on a chair that feels like ice. The air is still. Too still. There is a door. It is black. It is the only black thing. You know where it leads. You have always known. You do not knock. You do...

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