The Distant Garden
The pen snapped against the laminate of my desk, a sound like a small bone breaking, and I watched the ink bleed into the "Legacy" policy form in a dark, spreading stain. My left hand, the one that had held Sarah’s face in the dark for twenty years, was no longer flesh. It was a jagged, translucent shard of glass, catching the fluorescent light of the Meridian Insurance breakroom and refracting...
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