The Faded Dust
The iron wheel of the great loom shuddered against its axis, a grinding complaint that echoed through the vast, dust-choked expanse of the textile mill. Elias Thorne stood at the center of the machinery, his hands slick with the black grease of the drive belts, his eyes fixed on the jagged tear in the main canvas. The air was thick, a physical weight that pressed against his lungs, carrying the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen