The Pale Fracture
"Do you hear it?" The sound was not a sound, not exactly. It was a vibration that started in the marrow of the shin and climbed, cold and electric, up the femur to settle in the chest. It was the hum of the Great Loom, the invisible engine that spun the world into its predetermined shape, and I had been listening to it for forty years, waiting for it to stop. "No," I said, though my voice...
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