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Weekly Contest #269
Thursday The room lay silent, its corners draped in shadows that whispered tales of absence. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting patterns of light on the dust motes that danced in the air. The Framekeeper sat in his old, worn armchair, facing the dimly lit fireplace, its soft glow casting flickering shadows on the walls. The wine coursed through his veins, its warmth spreading a delightful languor as his eyelids grew heavy. Peace was a luxury he hadn’t felt in a long time. All he cared about was in front of him—the wine and the war...
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