The Distant Temple
The glass did not break. It shattered. There is a difference. Breaking is an accident of force; shattering is an admission of failure. I held the shards in my hand, the cuts clean and red, while the city hummed its indifferent hymn above us. We were in the precinct, or what passed for one in this era of sanitized bureaucracy. The walls were white, soundproofed, sterile. No wood grain. No dust....
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