The Distant Clue
The porcelain broke before I even touched it, a silent shattering that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones rather than in the air. We were standing in the center of the study, the room a sealed box of dust and ticking clocks, the windows boarded against a wind that howled with a voice I could not quite identify. My wife, Elara, stood opposite me, her face a mask of such profound,...
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