The Golden Mirror
The taste of copper filled my mouth before I even opened my eyes, a metallic tang that stuck to the roof of my palate like the residue of a cheap penny, and I knew with a sickening, physical certainty that I had not been dreaming but rather trapped in the visceral, inescapable loop of my own decay, a prison cell made of flesh and failing memory where the bars were my own trembling fingers and...
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