The Faded Chronicle
"You broke it." The voice was not loud. It was the sound of ice cracking in a deep lake. Silent until the fracture spreads, then a sharp, bright pain that stops the blood. I looked down. The porcelain shard lay on the cobblestones. White. Cracked. A piece of the world I had held in my hands for forty years. "It fell," I said. My voice sounded thin. Distant. Like a radio signal from a dead...
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