The Distant Promise
The glass cup sat on the table. It was cracked. "Did you break it?" Margaret asked. Her voice was light. Too light. Like a bird flying too high in a storm. "I didn't touch it," said Thomas. He did not look at her. He looked at the floor. The floor was dark. The wood was old. "It just broke," Margaret said. She picked it up. The shards cut her thumb. A bead of red. She laughed. "See? Just a...
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