The Hall

By Alex MacGregor Nothing has changed. Polished wood, radiator guards. Chairs stacked in two. Windows peeling with white paint. Nothing has changed. Pyrex mugs, a giant urn. Coffee, tea. Custard creams and bourbons. Nothing has changed. The distant echoes. Squeaking footsteps, joyful laughter. Not knowing where we were going. Nothing has changed. Clinging evermore to … Continue reading The Hall

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