The Golden Greenhouse
The jar broke before I even reached for it, shattering into a constellation of green glass across the stone floor of the infirmary, and I swear to you, Sister Agnes, that I did not touch it, I stood there with my hands raised in the air as if I were praying or as if I were surrendering to a god I had not believed in since childhood, watching the shards catch the dim light of the single tallow...
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