George remained silent
George didn’t say a word as the tension in the room tightened like a wire. His attention was locked on the glass, his body still except for subtle hand signals guiding the team. Every breath he took was measured, every movement purposeful. Martha watched him closely, feeling both reassured by his focus and unnerved by his silence.
The room was filled only with the soft rustling of fabric, the clinking of tools, and whispered commands. Martha’s chest tightened as her eyes darted between George and the shaking glass. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Then, just above a whisper, she heard George mutter, “Almost there.” That tiny phrase held a flicker of hope she desperately clung to.
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