The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 11:05:25 -

The train smelled of iron and stale coal. It was a smell that lived in the bones. We were moving north. The tracks rattled. The world outside was a blur of gray. I held a tin box. It was cold. It was heavy. Inside, there was no food. There was no medicine. There was only a mirror. A small, oval glass. It had a crack in it. A long, white scar. I watched my face in the glass. It was not my face....

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