The Wistful Voyage

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 23:20:30 -

The dream was always the same. A glass wall. Thin. Shivering. I pressed my palm against it. It cracked. Not shattered. Just fractured. A web of white lines spreading from my knuckles. I woke with the sound of breaking in my ears. A high, thin note. Like ice on a lake in January. I was in the break room. The coffee was cold. Black. Bitter. It tasted like tar. My badge hung heavy on my chest. A...

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