The Wistful Grid
The letter began not with a greeting but with the precise, clinical specification of the glass, as if the object were the only thing in the universe capable of holding the weight of what Gerald had to say, and he wrote to his old friend, his mirror, his anchor, from the sterile, humming white room where the air tasted of ozone and antiseptic, detailing how the great orchid had shattered into a...
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