The Pale Bonsai
The tremor started in the left hand, a subtle, rhythmic shudder that I had been ignoring for three days until it finally took the glass from my fingers and sent it shattering against the linoleum. I stood in the center of the studio apartment, the shards glittering under the harsh, flickering fluorescent light, and watched the liquid pool on the floor like a dark, expanding stain. The glass was...
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