I’m just a fledgling writer trying to get some wind beneath my wings. Maybe I’ll find some purpose along the way.
It was almost dusk above the remains of New York City. The eroded concrete from the once towering skyscrapers began to hold a faint orange hue as shadows along the ground stretched like tendrils reaching for nourishment. A mild wind coasted between the great walls of the war-torn structures, carrying with it chips of stone and dust from the old world—the sound of its friction against the concrete sang a sad song of “what was is no more.”
Treasure Between the Pages
“How long does he have left?” “It could be any day now. My condolences, Mr. Balewa. We would have reached out to you sooner, but your father...”