new-spilt

Updated: July 14, 2026

Larssen had no further use for him at present, and Olive had no sympathy to waste on a beaten man. He had been sitting brokenly in a chair at the desk where he had signed away his independence, gazing into a new-spilt ink-blot on the polished surface of the desk, seeing visions in its glistening, blue-black pool.

Max Rittenberg - Swirling Waters