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The Romanov Diary
Category: Historical
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The end.