The Wistful Silence
The sky above the valley did not fall so much as it collapsed, a heavy, wet sheet of indigo dragging down the tops of the pines until the world became a single, breathless room. You were standing on the ridge when the first tremor hit, a low-frequency hum that vibrated in the marrow of your shins, the kind of sound that the human ear is not evolved to process but the body remembers like a...
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