The Distant Summer
The settlement offer is on the table, the pen uncapped, the ink drying in a slow, dark bead that looks less like writing fluid and more like a clot of old blood. Arthur stands by the window, his back to you, the light from the overcast sky flattening his features into a grey, featureless mask. He has not turned around. He does not need to. You can feel the weight of his attention pressing...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews