030 — The Marble Saboteur | Talon Z. Gray

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They say I preserve their greatness.
They don’t see the hairline fracture in the stone,
waiting to split the empire in two.

They wanted marble
—everything in marble.

“Will you use marble well?” they asked.
Yes, I’ve been known to use marble.
“Then you are the inheritor of the court.”

That’s what happens when your family serves for generations.
They treat me as one of their own,
but I know they laugh at me behind closed doors.

So I shape a lazy eye here.
Chip a cracked lip there.
Carve tiny flaws with intention
—using sculpture to loosen the shoelaces of their power.

They don’t realize marble stains.
I’ve suggested other mediums:
granite, bronze, even wood.
But they’re obsessed with this perfect white stone.
They want their beauty to last forever.
Too vain to notice my silent rebellion.

“I’m seventy percent done,” I whisper to myself.
I could make them cross-eyed and they’d never notice.

That’s how consumed these people are.
Just make it look good.
Make it last forever.
Make it in marble.
They all ask the same thing,
as if no other material exists.

Sometimes, it feels like I’m part of the show.
That they’re acting for me
—or acting at me.
It’s uncanny.

For now, all irregularities go unnoticed.
But time will tell.
Even marble cracks.
And when the card castle falls,
my hand will already be dust.