The Faded Guest
"Did you lock the gate?" Thomas did not answer. He stood in the doorway of the study, his back to the fire. The room was cold. It had been cold for three days. The frost had crept up the windowpanes, lacing the glass with white veins that looked like the cracks in a broken shield. "Thomas?" "Locked," he said. His voice was rough. It scraped against the silence like a boot on gravel. "Good. I am...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima