The Pale Fracture

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2026-08-19 00:34:09 -

The Pale Fracture

The bread was stale. It had been baked that morning, I think, or perhaps last week. Time in the Settlement did not move in a straight line; it pooled like water in a cracked basin. I held the loaf in my hands. It was grey. Not the grey of ash, but the grey of old bones. I broke it. The crust snapped with a sound that was too loud for the silence of the room. "Margaret," Thomas said. He did not...

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