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The Silk Road
Category: Historical
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.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The end.