The Distant Nightmare
The letter lay on the kitchen table, its seal broken, the paper soft and gray from being handled too many times by wet hands. You read it again, though you had read it six times before, each word a small stone dropped into the hollow of your chest. The committee had denied your appeal. Your name was struck from the registry of eligible refugees, a bureaucratic correction in red ink that cost...
0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 3 مشاهدة 0 معاينة