The Wistful Voyage

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 23:49:53 -

The dream was not of flight, but of drowning in a field of white poppies. I woke with the taste of dry earth in my mouth. The room was dark, the air thick with the scent of lilies that Mrs. Gable had left on the bedside table. I sat up, my joints protesting the sudden movement, and listened to the rain tapping against the windowpane. It was a steady, rhythmic sound, like the ticking of a clock...

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