The Wistful Dinner
The mist in Oakhaven did not rise from the ground so much as it condensed out of the air, a thick, grey wool that swallowed the cobblestones and the eaves of the houses with equal indifference, and Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the town square, his leather case heavy against his hip, feeling the weight of the silence pressing against his eardrums with a pressure that was almost physical. He...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima