The Pale Garden

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-22 05:27:33 -

The Pale Garden

The train shed exhaled. Steam curled around the iron pillars like a dying ghost, holding its breath before the final release. I stood at the edge of the platform, my shoes caked in the black sludge of the yard. The air tasted of coal dust and ozone. A sharp, metallic tang. It coated the back of my throat. I swallowed. The taste remained. My name is Arthur. I am a clerk. I count things. I count...

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