The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-19 14:54:46 -

"Look." The voice was a whisper. A scrape of gravel against silence. I turned. My boots were heavy. They were wet. The mud sucked at my heels. It was the window. No. It was the glass. The pane of the safe room door. Thick. Laminated. Unbreakable. Or so they said. There was a line in it. Thin as a hair. White. A crack. I stared. My hand trembled. I reached out. My finger hovered. I did not touch...

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