The Pale Fracture

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 22:06:20 -

The Pale Fracture

The glass did not break. It shattered. There was a sound like a scream held in a jar. Then silence. Then the smell of ozone and wet paper. I stood in the center of the Atrium, holding a shard of my own reflection in my left hand. The edge was thin as a razor. It cut into my palm. I did not feel it. I felt only the heat. "You are late, Margaret." Director Ashworth stood at the top of the marble...

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