The Golden Mirror
The mirror is not gold. It is chrome, cold, and indifferent. You know this. You have known it since the moment you first saw it in the break room, standing on the corner of the table like a silent accusation. It reflects your face, but it does not judge. It simply shows. That is the problem. You are an ordinary man. You work in the basement of the Whitmore Building, in a department that no one...
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