The Distant Whispers
The glass shattered. Not with a bang. With a sigh. You held it in your hands. The shards were sharp. They bit into your palms. You did not let go. The room was bright. Too bright. Eleanor stood by the window. She watched the rain. She did not look at you. "You are done," she said. Her voice was flat. Clinical. You nodded. The necklace was gone. The diamond was gone. Only the silver chain...
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