The Pale Fracture
The glass is in your hands. It is a thick pane. It is cold. You hold it by the edges. Your fingers are white. You are a maker of windows. You are old. Your name is Thomas. The house is big. It is white. It stands on the hill. The fog is thick. It comes in through the cracks. The air tastes of metal. It tastes of old blood. You are in the attic. The room is dark. The light comes from the pane....
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