The Wistful Show
The fluorescent lights in the sub-basement hummed, a low, electric drone that seemed to vibrate directly against the base of Elara’s skull. She sat before the steel desk, her fingers hovering over the keys of the terminal, the blue glow reflecting in the hollows of her eyes. The room was windowless, a concrete box buried three levels beneath the city, where the air tasted of recycled dust and...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima