The Golden Greenhouse
The glass was already cracking when Leo left. It sat on the workbench in the basement of the house. A single pane. Rectangular. Thick. It had been cut from a larger sheet, the edges rough and raw, waiting for the wheel to smooth them. Leo held it in his hands. He felt the weight of it. Cold. Heavy. He looked at the hairline fracture running from the bottom left corner to the center. It was...
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