The Distant Threshold
The ice breaks. You hear it first. A crack. Thin. Sharp. Like a bone snapping under a boot. You are standing on the frozen surface of the reservoir behind the manor. The air is so cold it bites your tongue. You are Thomas. You are the glassblower. You are trying to fix the window. The glass is cracked. Not the window. The pane you made. Three years of work. A single sheet of crystal, blown thin...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen