November 24, 2016
` Category: Fiction / Short Stories
There is no greater test of vision than to foresee one’s own death. Reminiscent of a Rodin sculpture come to life, Artek sat motionless on the hot sand, his back pressed against the rough-but-reassuring bark of a tall palm tree. High overhead, the sun shone down with unusual fierceness, and he was grateful for the limited shade.