The Faded Photograph
The wall cracked. Not split. Cracked. A hairline fracture, thin as a vein, running from the baseboard to the ceiling. It happened while I was scrubbing the floor. The wood groaned. The plaster sighed. Dust fell. I stopped. My hands were wet. The water was cold. I looked up. The crack pulsed. It did not pulse. It was still. But my heart was not. It hammered against my ribs. Like a bird trapped...
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