The Wistful Skyline
The fire started in the wool, specifically in the heavy, undyed fleece of the coats that hung in a dense, suffocating curtain along the back wall of the workshop, a wall that smelled of lanolin, sweat, and the sharp, metallic tang of the dyes that had soaked into the wood over decades. You remember the moment not with shock, but with a strange, detached clarity, as if you were watching a film...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews