The Wistful Voyage

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 21:20:00 -

The bowl was blue. Not the blue of the sky, nor the deep, bruised blue of the ocean at dusk. It was a pale, milky glaze, thin as ice, trembling under the weight of its own fragility. Margot held it in her hands. The heat of her palms seeped into the ceramic. She felt it shudder. A hairline fracture, invisible to the eye, had already run through the rim. She knew this. She had always known it....

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