The Wistful Letter
The glass did not break with the sharp, decisive crack of a wine glass shattering on stone, but with a long, weeping groan that seemed to pull the air itself into its fracture, a sound so deep and resonant it vibrated in the marrow of my bones as I stood frozen in the center of the rotunda, watching the central dome of the old municipal library come down in a cascade of dust and light, a...
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