A Tale Of Latte
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- Parts 8
The workshop hadn't seen daylight in years.
Buried beneath the surface of a forgotten amusement district, Latte sat against rusted lockers that still smelled faintly of burnt candy and dusted hopes. The flickering light above hummed in rhythm with the buzz in his head-that voice again, low and venomous.
"You didn't move. You didn't try. You just watched her fall."
A white envelope lay on the workshop floor. No stamp. No scent. Just his name-LATTE-written in thick red ink that bled at the edges like it couldn't hold itself together.
He hadn't received a letter since before they died.
He opened it with one claw.
"To Latte the Fox."
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#124
englishstory
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Results
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