The Distant Temple
The glass breaks before you hear it. It is a soundless shattering. The pane in the window of your studio, the one facing the grey London sky, simply ceases to be whole. A web of fractures spreads from the center. You stand still. Your breath holds in your chest. The cold air does not rush in. The shards do not fall. They remain, suspended in the air, a frozen storm of crystal. This is the first...
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