The Pale Garden
The invoice for the roof trusses totaled four thousand, two hundred dollars, a figure I had weighed against the silence of the attic for three days straight. I held the chipped porcelain doll in my left hand, its ceramic skin cold and smooth, while the right hand trembled around the pen. The crack running from its left eye to its chin was not a flaw in the glaze; it was a wound, and as I...
0 Comments 0 Shares 9 Views 0 Reviews