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The Painted Veil
Category: Historical
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
A knock at the door changed everything.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The end.