The Faded Photograph
The wool of the coat itched against Elias’s neck, a heavy, damp friction that felt less like fabric and more like the weight of the town itself settling onto his twelve-year-old shoulders. He stood in the center of the gymnasium, the air thick with the smell of roasting pork and floor wax, while the Harvest Gala roared around him in a cacophony of fiddles and clinking glasses. The coat was too...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare