The Wistful Silence
The glass did not break with a sound; it broke with a silence that was louder than any scream. It was a high, thin fracture, like ice forming on a frozen lake in the middle of the night, and it spread from the center of the great oak table in the hall of the Blackwood estate. The table, which had stood for three hundred years, holding the weight of feasts, treaties, and funerals, simply gave...
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