The Distant Wound
The last thing I did before I walked out of the gate was turn back to look at the glass. It was not broken, not yet, but it was trembling in the wind, a thin, high-pitched hum that seemed to vibrate in my teeth. The house stood in the center of the courtyard, a massive, dark shape against the grey sky, and I felt a sudden, violent urge to smash it with my bare hands, to shatter that perfect,...
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