The Distant Joke
"You broke it," the Abbot said. His voice was not loud. It did not need to be. In the small, stone-walled study, the words hung in the air like dust motes caught in a shaft of pale winter light. I looked down. In my hands, the glass vessel lay in three jagged pieces. The iridescent liquid inside had spilled, pooling on the oak table, evaporating into a scent of ozone and crushed mint. "I did...
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