The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-19 06:08:23 -

The Wistful Petal

The glass shattered. Not broke. Shattered. A violent, crystalline scream that tore through the quiet of the mill. I held the shard. It cut my palm. I did not let go. Margaret stood by the window. She looked at me. She looked at the broken pane. She looked at the blood on my hand. "Throw it away," she said. I looked at the shard. It was small. It was blue. It caught the light from the furnace....

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