The Wistful Mirror
The coffee in the mug was cold. It had been cold for three hours. Clara stared at the surface, watching a thin film of oil gather in the center. It looked like a mirror. It looked like her own face, distorted and flat. She was sitting in the break room of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital. The room smelled of burnt toast and industrial lemon cleaner. It was a smell that stuck to the back of the...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare