The Wistful Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 16:53:50 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended gray curtain that smelled of wet slate and old iron. I stood alone in the center of the square, my boots sinking into the mud that had once been cobblestone, and waited for the command that never came. There was no one else to see me. Or perhaps there was, but they were the kind of people who had learned to look through me, the...

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