The Faded Frequency
The morning light fell through the dust motes of the isolation ward, a sterile, pale geometry that seemed to calcify the air around me, and I sat upon the edge of the cot, my hands resting in my lap, feeling the phantom weight of the vials I had once carried with such precise, clinical reverence, for I am Margaret Holloway, and I have spent the last three days in a conversation with a silence...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen