The Distant Metropolis

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-24 09:41:39 -

The dream is always the same, a slow dissolving of the hallway into a gray, wet mist that smells of damp wool and old paper. I wake with the taste of iron in my mouth and the sound of my own breathing loud in the empty room, the clock on the nightstand reading four in the morning. It is Tuesday again, or it feels like it, though the calendar on the wall insists it is Wednesday, the third day of...

0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare