It was singular, musical, almost beautiful. Like a wine glass tapped by a nervous thumb. Then, a whisper of falling diamonds.
Then, the new inspector came.
“Thermal stress, Keeper,” the man said, tapping a clipboard against a pane that faced the rising sun. “See this micro-fracture along the edge? Small now. But the sun heats the center, the frame holds the edge cold. Different expansions. Tick… tick… tick.” He tapped the glass again, a hollow, ominous sound. “Eventually, pop.” glass stress crack