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The Painted Veil
Category: Historical
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
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.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The end.