The Pale Fracture
The bowl is cracked. You know this because the light catches the jagged line running through the glaze, a pale fracture that mirrors the tremor in your left hand. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a senior archivist in the Bureau of Cognitive Compliance, and you are holding a relic of your late wife’s obsession with botanical preservation. The air in the archive room hums with the sterile...
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