The mirror was cold. I knew this before I touched it. My hand hovered, trembling, above the glass. It was a tall thing, framed in oak that had warped with age. The wood looked like dried skin. I stood in the center of the room. The room was empty. No, not empty. It was full of dust. The dust settled on the floorboards. It settled on the chair. It settled on my shoulders. I was leaving. That was the truth. I had packed my bag. It sat by the door. It was light. Too light. I had left everything behind. I had left the books. I had left the papers. I had left the life.

I looked at my reflection. The face was pale. The eyes were dark. I looked old. I looked tired. I did not recognize the person looking back. This was the first break. The glass was not a window. It was a wall. I raised my hand again. I touched the surface. It was solid. It was hard. It did not yield. I pushed. The mirror cracked. A thin line ran down the center. It started at the top. It ended at my nose. I pulled my hand back. The line remained. It was a scar. It was a promise.

I had been the court physician for ten years. I had served the Duke. I had healed his sons. I had cured his wife. I was wise. I was respected. I knew the body. I knew the mind. I thought I knew myself. I was wrong. The court was a machine. We were gears. We turned. We stopped. I had stopped. I had broken. The Duke had seen it. He had called me to his study. He had looked at me with pity. Pity was worse than anger. Pity was final.

"You are leaving," he said. It was not a question.

"Yes, my lord," I said. My voice was quiet. It was steady. I had practiced steadiness. I had learned it in the library. I had learned it in the silence.

"Take your things," he said. "Do not return."

I bowed. I turned. I walked out. The doors closed behind me. The lock clicked. The sound was small. The sound was loud. I stood in the corridor. The candles flickered. The shadows moved. I was free. I was trapped. I did not know the difference. I walked to my quarters. I packed the bag. I chose the clothes. I chose the tools. I left the scalpel. I left the forceps. I left the stethoscope. They were dead things. They were useless now.

I sat on the bed. I looked at the mirror. It was the only thing I could not pack. It was the only thing I could not take. It was the witness. It was the judge. I looked at the crack. It was growing. It was splitting. The glass was failing. I was failing. I closed my eyes. I counted to ten. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. I opened my eyes. The mirror was whole. No, it was not. The crack was wider. The glass was jagged. It was ready to shatter.

I went to the door. I opened it. The hallway was dark. The floor was cold. I walked. My steps were light. They were heavy. I heard a voice. It was my voice. It was coming from the mirror.

"Stay," it said.

I stopped. I looked back. The reflection was moving. It was not me. It was the other one. It was the one I had killed. It was the one I had buried. It was the one I had denied.

"I am going," I said.

"You are staying," it said. "You are always here."

I turned away. I walked faster. The voice followed me. It was in my head. It was in my bones. It was in the blood. I could not escape. I could not run. I was running. I was standing still. The paradox was the cage. The cage was the self.

I reached the gate. The night was cold. The stars were out. They were indifferent. They did not care. I looked at my hands. They were clean. They were empty. I had washed them. I had scrubbed them. The blood was gone. The guilt remained. The guilt was invisible. The guilt was heavy. I carried it. I would always carry it.

I stepped out of the city. I walked into the fields. The grass was tall. The wind was strong. It blew in my face. It blew in my eyes. I did not blink. I kept walking. I walked until my feet bled. I walked until my legs shook. I walked until the sun rose. The sun was red. The sun was angry. It burned the sky. It burned the ground. I stopped. I sat down. I looked at my hands. The blood had dried. It was black. It was part of me.

I thought of the mirror. I thought of the crack. I thought of the face. I was not one person. I was two. I was many. I was the healer. I was the patient. I was the judge. I was the criminal. The lines were blurred. The lines were broken. The mirror had shown me the truth. The truth was ugly. The truth was beautiful. The truth was me.

I stood up. I continued walking. I did not know where I was going. I did not know if I would arrive. I did not know if I would live. I did not know if I would die. I knew only the step. I knew only the breath. I knew only the now.

The road was long. The road was straight. The road was empty. I walked alone. The silence was loud. The silence was soft. The silence was full. It was full of echoes. It was full of memories. It was full of regrets. I heard the Duke's voice. I heard the wife's voice. I heard the children's voices. They were all in the air. They were all in the wind. They were all in me.

I walked for days. I ate from the ground. I drank from the stream. I slept under the trees. I dreamed of the mirror. In the dream, the glass was white. It was bright. It was blinding. I could not look. I turned away. I walked away. I woke up. The sky was blue. The world was real. The world was hard. The world was indifferent.

I reached a village. It was small. It was poor. The houses were made of stone. The people were thin. The people were tired. I walked through the streets. I saw a shop. It was a glass shop. I stopped. I looked in the window. The shelves were full. Mirrors. Vases. Bottles. Windows. I looked at the mirrors. They were clean. They were whole. They were perfect. I looked at my reflection. It was broken. It was jagged. It was ugly.

I entered the shop. The owner was an old man. He was sitting behind the counter. He looked at me. He did not speak. I looked at him. I did not speak. We waited. The clock on the wall ticked. Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Are you lost?" he asked. His voice was rough. It was dry.

"Yes," I said.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I do not know," I said.

He nodded. He looked at the mirrors. He picked up a small one. It was round. It was plain. He held it up. He looked into it. He looked at me.

"You have a broken face," he said.

I looked at him. I did not understand. I looked at the mirror in his hand. My face was there. It was cracked. The line ran down the center. It was there. It was real. I had not imagined it. The mirror had not lied. I was broken. I had always been broken. The healing had been a lie. The wisdom had been a lie. The self had been a lie.

I took the mirror. I paid for it. I walked out. I walked away. I did not look back. I kept walking. The sun was setting. The sky was orange. The sky was purple. The sky was dark. I walked into the dark. I walked into the night. I walked into the unknown.

I held the mirror in my hand. It was cold. It was smooth. It was heavy. I looked into it. The face was there. The crack was there. It did not matter. It did not matter anymore. I was not trying to fix it. I was not trying to hide it. I was accepting it. I was becoming it. I was the crack. I was the glass. I was the shard.

I walked on. The road was endless. The road was eternal. I was part of it. I was part of the world. I was part of the cycle. The wheel turned. The wheel stopped. The wheel turned. I was not the driver. I was not the passenger. I was the road. I was the dust. I was the wind.

I reached a cliff. The sea was below. The waves crashed. The foam was white. The water was black. I stood at the edge. I looked down. I looked at the mirror. The reflection was clear. The crack was clear. I smiled. It was a sad smile. It was a true smile. I raised the mirror. I threw it. It fell. It spun. It caught the light. It flashed. It hit the water. It shattered. The pieces flew. The pieces sank. The water swallowed them. The water took them. The water kept them.

I stood there. I was empty. I was full. I was free. I was bound. I was me. I was not me. I did not care. I turned away. I walked away. I walked into the night. I walked into the silence. I walked into the peace.

The peace was quiet. The peace was still. The peace was mine. I had found it. I had lost it. I had found it again. I would lose it again. I would find it again. The cycle was complete. The cycle was eternal. I was part of it. I was nothing. I was everything. I was the exile. I was the home. I was the way.

I walked on. The stars were out. The moon was full. The world was dark. The world was bright. I was alive. I was dead. I was walking. I was standing. I was here. I was gone. I was here.