The Distant Wound
The glass is already cracked. You see it in the morning light, a spiderweb of white fractures radiating from the center of the pane, a wound that does not bleed but lets the cold in. You are standing in the kitchen of the Sector 4 residence, the one they assigned you after the Purge of the Archives, and you are holding the shard. It is a small thing, no larger than your thumb, sharp enough to...
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