The Distant Machine
The glass shatters. You hear it before you see it. A high, thin shriek that splits the air in the Grand Hall. It sounds like a bone breaking. It sounds like the world ending. You stand by the mahogany desk. Your hands are still. Your father’s hands are shaking. The chandelier above is a spiderweb of crystal. It hangs low. It catches the light from the gas jets. It burns cold. You look at the...
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