The Distant Ghost
The mirror shatters. It does not break with a single, clean snap. It fractures in a web of silver threads, a spiderweb of glass that holds the reflection together for one suspended heartbeat before it gives way. The shards fall. They do not clatter. They hiss. You stand in the center of the room. The air is thick, heavy with the smell of ozone and old dust. You are the inspector. You have been...
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