The Faded Paradox
"Look at it. Look." Your voice cracks. It is a dry sound. Like a twig snapping. The house breathes. Old stone. Cold air. You stand in the hall. The mirror is gone. The frame remains. A black mouth in the wall. You touch the dust. Your gloved hand. The leather is tight. It chokes your fingers. You are the Inspector. You are the judge. You are the thief. No one knows the last part. Not yet. "Who...
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