The Pale Verdict
The chisel bit into the limestone, a clean, dry sound that echoed off the unfinished wall. I held the tool steady, my wrist locked, feeling the vibration travel up my arm and into the base of my skull. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; the days had begun to blur together in the grey light of the estate, the sun rising and setting with little difference in the quality of the air. My...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews