The Pale Bonsai
The bonsai didn’t die. It shattered. That is the only word that fits, even if it feels like a lie. I stood in the center of the living room, my tie loosened, my pockets empty of evidence, and watched the ceramic pot explode outward in a spray of dust and broken clay. The roots, pale and twisted like old nerves, lay scattered across the Persian rug, still clinging to the soil, but the tree...
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