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The Samurai’s Honor
Category: Historical
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The end.