## The Echo Weaver The fluorescent hum of Dr. Anya Sharma’s office tasted like stale coffee and anxiety. Rain hammered against the panoramic window, blurring the Seattle skyline into a watercolor wash of gray. Across from her, Leo Maxwell fidgeted…
## The Sunken Chorus The chipped ceramic warmed Maya’s palm. Not with heat, exactly. More like a thrumming silence. She traced the spiral grooves etched into its surface – not by hand, she suspected, but *grown*. It felt…familiar. Like a…
## The Glass & the Ghost Light The chipped enamel of Esme’s mug warmed her palms. Rain lashed against the corrugated iron roof, a drumbeat mirroring the thrum in her skull. She traced the hairline fracture spiderwebbing across the porcelain,…
## The Bloom Thief The chipped Formica countertop stuck to Elsie’s forearm. Rain lashed against the window of the diner, blurring the neon glow of “Rosie’s” into a smear of pink and blue. She traced the condensation with her fingertip,…
The dust tasted like regret. Fine, ochre powder clung to my tongue, coating the back of my throat with a grit that mirrored the weight in my chest. I watched Veridia shrink beneath the grey, and it wasn’t a romantic…