The Wistful Incense
The ceramic bowl did not shatter with a dramatic crash, but rather with a soft, definitive crack, a sound like a dry branch snapping under the weight of an unspoken apology, and when Margaret Holloway looked down at the ruin of the piece on the floor of the sterile, white-tiled community center basement, she realized that the object had been the only thing in her life that had retained its...
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