Sisyphus in the Mirror
Act I The clock on the wall of the gas station convenience store said 3:00 AM. Mike Brennan sat behind the counter, staring at the mirror that hung behind the register. It was a full-length mirror, battered at the corners, the silvering flaking in places so that his reflection was fragmented — half clear, half distorted by patches of darkness where the backing had corroded. He had been working...
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