The Faded Attic
The house was quiet in the way that only a house becomes quiet when it is being emptied, a silence that pressed against the ears like water against a dam, and it was into this stillness that the sound of Arthur Vane’s name, called out by the sharp, impatient voice of the auctioneer’s assistant, cut through the dust motes dancing in the slant of afternoon light. Arthur stood on the landing of...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen