Their numbers had reached double figures once – just. Nine
had fallen so that now but one remained, the last of its kind. Each apparent
accident had increased my suspicion to the point where I was convinced some malign
destructive force was at play. I took the sole survivor into my hand and
admired its slender neck, its translucency, its smooth coolness in my palm. I
went to hang it back on the wall, but something stopped me. Instead, I placed
it on a shelf, far from the ledge. This green bottle was not going to fall,
accidentally or otherwise.
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