MrUniverse
Novice
A faint mist clung to the cobbled stones as you wander past shuttered stalls and half-swept stoops. Lanterns flicker low in their wrought-iron cradles, casting pale golden halos that dance with each breeze. Rounding the edge of the square, you notice the gentle sway of parchment in the breeze. The old board stands solemn as ever, burdened by months of fading ink and weary news. But there, pinned straight and still, a new edition catches your eye, the ink gleaming faintly beneath the lantern’s glow.
Pick it up?
Pick it up?