The Pale Exile
The count is simple: four hundred and twelve days since the fire, and three hundred and forty-seven since the shadow last moved in time with me. I have weighed these numbers against the grain of the wood in my desk, against the rust on the window latch, against the tremor in my left hand that has grown so violent I can no longer hold a pen without it slipping like a wet fish. I am writing to...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews