The Distant Garden
The first fracture in the porcelain tumbler occurred while you were still reciting the periodic table of heavy elements to the Chancellor, a sound so faint it was indistinguishable from the settling of the building’s own bones, yet to you it was the scream of a universe collapsing into a singular, unyielding point. You did not look down. To look down would be to acknowledge the glass, and to...
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