The Wistful Campus
The ink in my pen seems to weep, a dark and viscous tear that spreads across the parchment with a slowness that mocks the haste of my hand, for it is the fourteenth of October, 1893, and I have finally been granted the key to the restricted archive, a door that has stood closed to me for three years, ever since the silence fell upon our family and the board decided that my grief was a liability...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen