The Faded Apartment
The glass bird sat upon the windowsill, its crystalline feathers catching the pale, early light of the morning that had broken over the city of St. Jude’s. It was a thing of impossible fragility, cut from a single block of quartz until it resembled a sparrow in mid-flight, suspended in a moment of eternal, breathless ascent. I had kept it for forty years, since the day my father, a man whose...
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