The Distant Garden
The glass jar sat on the steel table, catching the fluorescent hum of the room. It was a simple vessel, thick-walled and unmarked, but to Elias Thorne, it was the center of a universe that had collapsed into a single, trembling point. He held it in his hands, not because he needed to, but because the cold glass grounded him against the rising tide of his own guilt. The room was sterile, white,...
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