The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 02:35:31 -

The door was blue. Not the sky blue. Not the ocean blue. A flat, dull, painted blue. It sat in the center of the kitchen floor. I looked at it. My hands were shaking. The wood was cold. I touched it. It gave. Just a little. Like skin. I stepped back. "Are you ready?" Mara stood by the stove. She held a pot. Steam rose. It smelled like boiled cabbage. Like pennies. Like wet wool. "I am," I...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews