The Golden Quest
The banquet hall of the St. Jude’s Orphanage was not built for joy, but for the ritualistic consumption of sorrow, and tonight, the air hung thick with the smell of boiled cabbage and unwashed wool. Margaret Holloway sat at the far end of the long oak table, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the grain of the wood, feeling the roughness of it against her skin like a warning. She was a...
0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 1 Views 0 Vista previa