The Distant Whispers

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 06:30:22 -

The ink had dried. It sat on the desk. Black. Final. Margaret stared. Her hands shook. Not much. Just a tremor. Like a leaf in wind. She was a clerk. That was all. A woman of dust and paper. In the Hall of Records. The Hall was old. Stone walls. High ceilings. Light came in thin slices. It was a palace of truth. Or so they said. Truth is heavy. Margaret loved the records. She loved the order....

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews