The Wistful Witness
The chisel had to strike twelve times. That was the count. Twelve strikes to seat the keystone, twelve strikes to seal the gap, twelve strikes to prove that Elias Thorne’s hands, which had trembled since Clara’s coffin went into the earth, were still steady enough to build a thing that would outlast the man who built it. He wiped the dust from his forehead with a forearm that smelled of lime...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews