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The Silk Road
Category: Historical
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The end.