The Wistful Mirror

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-19 09:27:35 -

The rain hit the glass with a steady, rhythmic thud. It sounded like fingers drumming on a coffin lid. I watched the droplets race down the pane, merging, splitting, racing again. My reflection stared back from the other side. It was not a reflection I recognized. It was a ghost wearing my face. You are late, said the voice in my head. It was my own voice, but colder. Harder. It had the weight...

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