The Pale Path
The chandeliers in the faculty lounge were crystal, heavy and sharp-edged, casting a light that felt less like illumination and more like a surgical exposure of every flaw in the room. I sat at the long table, my hands resting on the white tablecloth, trembling with a rhythm that had nothing to do with the sherry in my glass and everything to do with the creeping, silent numbness that had taken...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews