The Distant Metropolis
The sky does not break; it shatters. You watch it happen from the rear window of the bus, a vast, crystalline fracture spreading across the firmament in a web of impossible, glowing fissures, the stars not twinkling but bleeding light into the void, a cataclysm that feels less like an event and more like a sudden, violent correction of a long-held illusion. The air in the cabin grows heavy,...
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