The Golden Greenhouse
The glass broke. Not shattered. Not exploded. It broke. I heard it before I saw it. A sound like a bone snapping in the dark. Then the silence. The heavy, thick silence of a held breath. I was in the kitchen. My hands were in the sink. I was washing blood. Or something that looked like blood. It was dark red. It smelled of iron and old pennies. I scrubbed. I scrubbed until my knuckles were...
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