The Wistful Mirror
The frost had turned the landscape into a white abstraction, a sketch of the world before the ink of reality was allowed to settle. Elias Vane walked with the heavy, deliberate pace of a man carrying a burden he could not see but felt in the curvature of his spine. He was a man of fifty, with eyes that had scanned too many documents and faces, and hands that trembled only when they were still....
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare