The Pale Fracture
The building was not a house but a lung, a vast, ribbed thing of concrete and wire that exhaled cold drafts into the corridors where we lived, a structure that had been built to keep the world out but which, in its slow decay, had become permeable to the very things it was designed to exclude, and I stood in the center of the communal hall, holding the small, jagged shard of glass that had been...
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