The Golden Circuit
The glass shattered. It was not a loud sound. It was a dry crack, like a twig snapping under a boot in deep snow. The shard flew. It caught the light. It was gone. Mara wrote the date in the margin. Her hand shook. The ink bled. She looked at the window. The sky was gray. It was always gray in this town. The town sat in a valley. The walls were high. The walls were old. She pressed her thumb to...
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