The Golden Maze
The ink bled into the cotton rag before I could wipe it, a dark stain spreading across the white surface of the form. I stared at the blot, my hand trembling slightly, while the clock on the wall ticked with a mechanical indifference that felt personal. Outside, the grey light of November pressed against the high windows of the Ministry of Records, turning the dust motes into suspended, grey...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme