The Wistful Mountain
The knee gave way with a sound like a dry branch snapping under a boot. Elias caught the stone ledge of the chapel door, his knuckles whitening against the rough granite. Three days. That was all that remained before the pension office in the valley town would process his retirement papers and send him home to a quiet, empty house where the silence would be louder than the wind. He needed one...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare