The Wistful Mirror

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-19 05:57:55 -

The wool had turned gray. It used to be a deep, aggressive red, the kind of color that screamed at you from across a crowded room, demanding attention, demanding respect. Now it was the color of dried blood, of old rust, of the dust that settled on the high shelves of the archive where I spent my days. It was my coat. It was my skin. I could not remember a time when I had not worn it, and I...

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