Thanos Kalamidas - Fiction

The afternoon light in Vyronas has a peculiar colour, a pale gold that makes the narrow streets seem older than they are. It is the kind of light that reveals, not hides; it turns dust into memory. Yiannis stood before the small yellowed house, hands in his pockets, staring up at the new second floor. The concrete still smelled wet, raw, unfinished. The builders’ laughter had faded, leaving behind only the low hum of cicadas and the echo of his own thoughts. From the open window of the neighbou