The Golden Master
The bone did not break; it merely forgot how to be a bone, dissolving into a fluid, molten gold that poured from the fracture site of my left forearm like honey from a shattered jar, slick and warm and impossibly heavy. I watched it pool on the sterile white tiles of the infirmary floor, the liquid metal catching the harsh fluorescent light and refracting it into a spectrum of amber and ochre,...
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