The Distant Garden
The kiln exploded before the first light of dawn had truly settled on the valley floor, a sound like a giant snapping a bone in its sleep. I was not inside; I was standing three yards away, holding a cup of cold tea, watching the bricks buckle and the firelight bleed out into the grey mist. The silence that followed was heavier than the noise had been. I looked down at my hands. They were...
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