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The Samurai’s Honor
Category: Historical
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The end.