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The Silk Road
Category: Historical
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The end.