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The Last Crusade
Category: Historical
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The end.