The Wistful Grid
"Stop looking at the floor, Elias, the tiles don't hold the map." The voice was Colonel Halloway’s, dry as the dust that always settled in the corners of the patrol station, and it snapped Elias Thorne out of the recurring dream with the violence of a physical blow. He sat up in the narrow cot behind the filing cabinets, his lungs tightening in a familiar, jagged spasm that forced him to cough...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews