The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 00:02:19 -

The incense stick burned low. It was a thin thing, brittle as a winter twig, curling slightly at the tip. In the center of the stone floor, it cast a long, wavering shadow. The room was cold. The air smelled of damp wool and old paper. Thomas sat cross-legged. He was twelve. His hands were stained blue from the indigo vats in the cellar. He held the ash tray in his lap. It was iron, heavy and...

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