The Pale Echo

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 23:45:30 -

The Pale Echo

The glass was cold. I held it in my hand. It was a small shard. A fragment of a wine glass. It had belonged to a set. A fine set. The kind served to guests who wore silk and spoke softly. I had washed it. I had dried it. I had placed it on the high shelf. It had fallen. Or it had been knocked. I did not know which. I only knew it was broken now. The pieces were sharp. They cut the air. They cut...

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