The Golden Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 23:07:57 -

The Golden Mirror

The soup was cold. It sat in the tin bowl, a murky brown sludge that smelled of boiled leather and regret. I stirred it. The spoon scraped the bottom with a sound like a fingernail on a chalkboard. I was hungry. My stomach felt hollowed out, scraped clean by days of not eating enough, of eating only what the institution provided. But this? This was not food. It was punishment dressed in broth....

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