The Wistful Mirror

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 12:47:49 -

The smell of burnt sugar and ozone clung to the inside of my helmet, a cloying, sickly sweetness that coated the back of my throat and refused to wash away, no matter how many times I rinsed my mouth with cold, sterile water in the bathroom of my temporary quarters on the fourteenth floor of the Federal Building. It was a scent that belonged to kitchens, to Christmas mornings, to the soft,...

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