The Distant Cartograph
The glass was cold. It sat on the counter. I touched it. It was cold. "You broke it," I said. "I didn't break it," said Silas. He stood by the door. He looked at his shoes. "It was already broken. Just... ready." I looked at the shard. It was small. It was sharp. It cut my thumb. A drop of blood. Red on the glass. "It's mine," I said. "It's the town's," Silas said. I laughed. It was a dry...
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