The Pale Fracture
The ice cracked. It did not shatter. It did not explode. It simply gave way, a long, white line splitting the frozen surface of the lake. Margaret stood on the other side. She was there. She had always been there. The world was gray. Not the gray of city smog, but the gray of old wool. The air tasted of iron and snow. Margaret watched the fracture widen. It was a pale fracture. It looked like a...
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