The Golden Quest
The orchid died on the third day, its petals turning to brown lace in the window of the train. Clara watched the decay with a cold, clinical detachment, her fingers wrapped tightly around the ticket stub that marked the end of her childhood. She was thirty-two, and she was leaving the crumbling estate of her father, a man whose silence had become heavier than the dust on the shelves. She...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews