The Pale Banner
The basin lay in the center of the floor. It was cracked. A jagged line of white fracture cut through the porcelain, splitting the vessel into two unequal halves. The water had drained away long ago. The dust settled on the broken rim. Margaret stood over it. She did not move. The house was quiet. The wind pressed against the windowpanes, a low, constant moan. Outside, the town of Ashworth...
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