Home For Wayward Travellers Upd <95% TRENDING>

The Keeper smiled—a small, sad, generous thing. “Until you stop being wayward. Or until you realize you never were.”

Behind a counter of scarred walnut stood the Keeper. She had no name, or perhaps she’d forgotten it. Her eyes were the color of rain on pavement. She didn't ask Elena why she’d come. She never did. home for wayward travellers

That was a lie, of course. There were always vacancies. The Keeper smiled—a small, sad, generous thing

“How long can I stay?” Elena asked.