The Distant Nightmare
The porcelain vase, an heirloom of blue and white cobalt that had watched over three generations of your family’s silence, shatters against the stone floor with a sound like a bone breaking in a dream. You do not scream. You do not even blink. The shards scatter across the kitchen tiles, catching the late afternoon light that streams through the leaded windows, turning the mundane dust motes...
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