The Wistful Grid
The ceramic shards did not scatter; they aggregated. This was the first anomaly in the log of the containment unit, a deviation from the standard fracture patterns that Margaret Holloway had spent the last three days trying to map. She stood in the center of the sterile white room, the air thick with the scent of ozone and pulverized silica, her fingers trembling as she reached for the jagged...
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