The Faded Photograph
The rain did not fall so much as it pressed against the thick, leaded glass of the chapel window, a persistent, gray hand seeking purchase on the stone, while inside the silence of the vestry hung so heavy it seemed to possess weight, a physical pressure against the eardrums of the man who sat alone in the dimness, his back rigid against the cold oak of the confessional booth, his fingers...
0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews