The Wistful Incense
The ceramic bowl shatters on the linoleum of the university faculty lounge, a sound so sharp and final that it silences the low hum of the coffee machine and the murmured complaints about the grant deadlines, and in that sudden, ringing quiet you stand with your hands still raised as if you had thrown a grenade rather than a vessel, staring at the fragments of blue glaze that now map a chaotic...
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