The Distant Wound

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-22 09:42:41 -

The Distant Wound

The champagne was cold, a flat, metallic taste that coated the tongue like tin foil. I stood in the corner of the Ministry atrium, my hand resting on the marble pillar, feeling the vibration travel up my arm. It was a low thrum, a frequency that lived below the threshold of hearing but above the threshold of sanity. Around me, the city’s elite laughed, their voices bright and brittle, oblivious...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima