The Distant Garden
The boiler screamed at two in the morning, a jagged, metallic shriek that tore through the silence of the Vance estate and shattered the fragile illusion of our domestic tranquility. I stood in the center of the grand hallway, my breath pluming in the air that had grown suddenly, violently cold, while the central heating system—a complex lattice of Victorian iron and pressurized steam that had...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews