The Faded Road
I woke with the taste of copper and stale rain on my tongue, that metallic tang that clings to the back of the throat after a nightmare that refuses to resolve into shape, a lingering residue of a violence I could no longer quite recall but whose weight still pressed against my chest like a wet stone. The room was dim, the light filtering through the blinds in thin, dusty slats that cut the air...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews