The Wistful Crossroads
The needle slipped through the wool. Elara pulled the thread tight, her fingers numb from the cold seeping through the floorboards of the cottage. Outside, the coal town of Blackwood breathed a thick, grey fog that tasted of sulfur and ash. Her mother lay in the next room, coughing a wet, rattling cough that shook the walls. Elara needed the medicine. The doctor had said it was expensive, but...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen